


A Dying Wish

by LunarCallisto



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bucket List, Chapter 85 and Up, Character Death, Depressed Titan-shifters, Future Fic, Manga Spoilers, Multi, Sexual Content, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarCallisto/pseuds/LunarCallisto
Summary: “What do you wish for?”  “Is this some kind of charity?” Annie spat, snarling at them both, “Showing me mercy now that you’re already aware I’m expiring?” * * *Annie's crystal is breached nearly four years after the events of the 58th Expedition; She is pardoned of her crimes, and sent to live in the underground for the remainder of her life span. She had expected to die alone, lost, and forgotten in the memories of others. But two certain people just wouldn't grant her that fate.





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> In light of the Chapter 88 spoilers- here's the first chapter of me slowly killing my fave.
> 
> Update 03/13/17: So recently, with chapter 90 and 91 (Year 851), there had been a 9 month, and three year time-skip, apparently? (CALLED IT) However that would make around four years of Annie being imprisoned. If she still is imprisoned that is. Anyway, I've tweaked the story a bit and added the new information. So to avoid confusion, Annie has a year left to live, meaning she had taken the serum when she was five years old, Eren has four years left to live, and Armin has nine. Annie wakes up the start of January of Year 854, and is moved underground in February. March is where the fun begins. That's all, Enjoy the story!

They told her that she'd been asleep for four years. That she encased her body in pure solid crystal; nearly impenetrable to any of their technology. She managed to prolong her fate, she remained untouchable—that was, until the 58th expedition outside of the wall, the myriad of epiphanies that followed.

The Survey Corp had not only brought back information about the world beyond the walls, but also a plethora of new methods to destroy her last resort against them. The 58th expedition, where revelations occurred, and then the race to prepare for an imminent war against the Marley was the most important goal for humanity left within the walls.

But the toll on lives it took to get that point.

That journey back from Shigansina had left the remaining Survey Corp members withered, and shell shocked. Arriving at the gates of Wall Rose without their former Commander and nearly a quarter of what had been a battalion– had even the bystanders who ridiculed them bow their heads in grief. Their numbers had dwindled down to an estimate of nine, would have been less if the newly appointed Commander didn't give the order for body searches. Turned out few had survived, but were severely handicapped.

Zoe Hange was one to believe that the dead should always be buried alongside their hopes and dreams; She had said so to those who survived, with a look of repentance on her bloodied face. Now Hange—A senior commander four years later, face hardened by the tragedies of war, stood before Annie Leonhardt’s prison, tall, and calculative.

An aura of authority wrapped tight around the older woman– she still had that maniacal glint in her good eye too, that only served to make Annie shudder each time it swept over her small huddled form.  
  
In her crystal, time didn't seem to touch Annie. In fact, she didn't appear no less different than from when she had served under the Military Police so long ago. She was still sixteen, three missed birthdays later. Still with a rabid rabbit heart, and itchy fingers wishing to curl around the throats of her captors. Still with that deep yearning for a place called home.  
  
From the moment she blinked away the icy specs that clung to her lashes, her first thought had been,  _where was her father?_  
  
And,  _if he was okay?_   _Was she too late? Had everyone else failed, as well?_  
  
Did they finally capture the coordinate? Did they track down Reiss Heir? Where was Bertolt and Reiner?  
  
All these unanswered questions crammed into her head altogether, probing her brain, over lapping each other, until for the first few days she was conscious, all she did was ask them questions—and it drove them crazy. She didn't care to whom she asked, she didn't care for descriptive details. Annie just wanted straight forward answers, she wanted to know the how, the what, the when's. She wanted to know who was dead and who was not. She wanted an absolution.  
  
The one who spared her all the answers she wanted, without even an ounce of malice, was none other than Armin Arlert. Seeing him again gave her a brief callback to Stohess, his scheme played by her own foolhardiness.  
  
Listening to him retell the events that happened from when she had crystallized herself to where they were now—it seemed all to surreal to her. Like a story book being read with few missing pages, the missing pages being herself. She wondered briefly if their plans would’ve gone right, the way they were supposed to, had she chosen to be compromised by the Survey Corp.  
  
Annie had been silent for the remainder of Armin’s run-through; and then she was silent afterwards too.  
  
Why could she have said, really.  _Your friends made the absolute worst decision? Bertolt is dead, because of you?_

_You were dead, because of Bertolt?_

_I’m sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused?_

_Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused us?_  
  
That was just the tip of the iceberg for her, there was so much more hidden beneath. Annie couldn't fathom it all. Couldn't really process what the very core problem of the whole situation was, and this astounded her, because Annie had always been able to deduce anything.

Armin told her the Marley had not raided in these four years she’d been dormant. So what the hell was holding them— _an entire far more advanced nation_ —up? 

As it turned out, neither could Armin, even with that _genius_ mind of his. Annie figured he was lying to her. All he could spare were vague plans the Survey Corp were conjuring to cross the sea over to Marley territory. But what could she do with that information? Bertolt was dead, Reiner was gone. So she just swallowed it all up, and carried forth. It had been day four when Armin came to deliver her the late news, and the _not-so-late_ news. It had been day six when Eren Jaeger strode into her dungeon cell, embracing the air of a worn diplomat rather than a soldier, his cape swishing behind him with each step.  
  
He had come alone.  
  
It was the first time she had seen him since, well, since Stohess. It surprised her, she hadn't expected him to arrive so early. In fact, she hadn't expected him to visit her at all.  She could have sworn he had declared hatred for her when they fought as titans- he practically oozed blood lust, and screamed rage at the top of his lungs when they battled.  
  
Though, maybe that had just been the impulsive of his titan talking, because when Eren peered at her through the bars of her cell. She saw a blank slate, a vacant thousand-yard stare, slumped shoulders, and untamed hair. She couldn't recognize him as the daredevil boy she once knew. The boy she’d  _grown_  to know, and had become used to. His eyes weren't the same bright zeal green of a proud youth– his eye's now, they were darker, foreboding. Empty. Like a mist shrouding an endless forest of evergreens, she could get lost in them easily.  
  
How she wished he could have yelled at her—gotten angry to the point of veins popping out of his neck. Maybe even throw in some profanities her way, call her a liar, a traitor, a murderer. Be  _alive._  
  
But he hadn't done any of that. He just stared, and she stared right back, until she couldn't anymore.  
  
When she turned away from him, as far as the chains latched around her ankles would let her, he spoke to her.  
  
"Just wanted to see you again." He murmured, gruff but soft. Then he stepped close to the bars of her cell, so close, that Annie saw the purplish hue under his tired eyes, the sparse facial hair that speckled his chin. He tapped his knuckles lightly against the rusted metal, and he said, "Welcome back.” Then he turned on the heels of his boots, and walked out.  
  
She hadn't seen him since.  
  
It was Day  _twenty-six_  now, and Annie had another one of her clinical appointments with the ever-so-graceful Commander Hange. Captain Levi– or rather the guard dog that followed the Commander everywhere she went– stood right by her side, old-age beginning to show itself around his eyes, but the rest of his face had remained the same. Permanent scowl and all.  
  
"We're escorting you to my office today." Hange informed her, one hand on her hip, while the other held up a torch.  
  
Annie quirked an eyebrow, not saying a thing. That was kind of her deal.  
  
The Commander continued, "It has come to our concerns that you may not exactly have much time left in this world, In fact, I’ve estimated you have about year before your body begins to show signs of deterioration."  
  
Levi released a sharp small huff– was that supposed to be a laugh?  
  
"We’ve have gotten much insight from the information you've provided us– which had been just  _slightly_ outdated," Hange held up a finger, "Though that's understandable because you were stuck in a rock for four years and there was no possible way that you could have digested any new information,  _unless_ —“  
  
"Get to the damn point." Levi quipped, gently nudging Hange’s hip with his elbow.

“Right!” Hange snapped her fingers, rubbing them together like she had just formed a devious plan. Annie feared for the worst. “We’ll no longer be doing our daily  _experimentations_ from this day on, and so forth. I’ve canceled the scheduled checkups as well, and the blood sampling.” Hange waved her hand carelessly, “And—ah,” She put a finger to her chin, deep in thought. Levi gave a phenomenal eye roll, before finishing off her sentence.

“You’ll be granted immunity, but only within the Survey Corp Base. Anywhere else, you’re to be restrained and escorted by a guard.” The Captain folded his arms, a bitter frown tugging at his lips. It was apparent he had fought relentlessly against the proposal of allowing her freedom.

Annie blinked—once—twice—had she heard correctly? Her eyes drifted to the Captain who regarded her with a pitiless stare, and then back to the Commander, who smiled at her like she had just captured live titans and were naming them all over again.

As always, Annie had questions. She knew what the catch was—her imminent death looming over her head like a storm cloud—but she figured they’d let her slowly rot away in the dungeons, and then eventually perform an autopsy on her corpse too see what made her tick. Maybe stuff her full of cotton, and sell her to a taxidermist.

Annie thought the worst of scenarios while she sat idly in that dark cell for days—she would have never guessed that they’d be so merciful.

“What do you want from me?” She asked, firm and uncertain, because everything came with a price.

At that the Commander’s smile morphed into an all-out grin, her pearly teeth glinted in the light of the torch she held up, shadows danced across one half of her face while the other half glowed in a soft orange. Annie swallowed despite herself—veering back further into the darkness of the cell.

“Why, I’m glad you asked.” Hange handed the torch over to Levi—who took it without sparing her a glance, she swiftly glided to the cell gate, rummaging around the pockets of her cloak, she let out a little ‘ _Ah-ha!’_ as she brought to light a cluster of skeleton keys, all bunched together on a rusty old key ring.

Annie observed the older woman unlock the cell gate—her shoulders hunched together like a scared animal ready to flee at any given moment, a knee-jerk response due to the harsh treatment she endured by the Commander’s own hands. Hange strode into the cell, Levi following right behind, his dark eyes burned a hole into Annie’s forehead—daring her to just  _try_  something.

Annie looked away while the Commander knelt by her side, body stiffening from their proximity—it’s when she heard a _clink_ , and felt her arms grow incredibility slack, that she fully faced the Commander, a word just about to leave her lips but the Commander beat her to it.

“I told you,” She said, now unlocking the cuffs shackled around Annie’s ankles, “That you’re going to be escorted to my office.”

Annie swallowed again, rather loudly—another tick of hers.

“What do you want?”

But only silence met as her answer, she pressed on, “Is it my power? Do you want my power? Is that it?”

Hange’s unsettling smile dropped, she squatted to see at eye level with Annie, her one amber eye flickering like dense flames, she rested her arms on her knees as she locked gazes with the former Female Titan. Hange toyed absently with the key ring—twirling it around her fore finger—Annie watched as all the keys flew in a repeating circle, one by one.

The sizzle and crackle of the torch Levi held resonated in the almost bare dungeon cell—Annie could hardly see what was going on behind those spectacles the Commander wore—what kind of crazy would she be serving up today?

“What about you?” Hange asked, Annie narrowed suspicious blue eyes at her.

“What do you want, Annie Leonhardt?”

Said girl gawked in disbelief, what kind of reverse psychology was this woman playing at?

“What I want?” Annie repeated, a harsh whisper that held so much more feeling than she let on.

“What do you wish for?”

“Is this some kind of charity?” Annie spat, snarling at them both, “Showing me mercy now that you’re already aware I’m expiring?”

She couldn’t stop herself there— “I don’t want  _your_  pity, and I don’t want to owe  _your_ people anything more, or anything less!” She glared, a fast dying malevolence driving her soul to speak—but unbeknownst to her, her eyes were becoming glassy, rimmed in red—and they told the truth.

“If you’re going to feed me to one of your shifter dogs, I’d rather you do it quickly, before I spoil.” Annie sneered.

Behind Hange, Levi shuffled quickly to come by his Commander’s side, but Hange held a placating hand out, stopping him. “I’m not pitying you, believe me when I tell you that, you’re the last person I’d ever feel sorry for.” Hange stood, tossing the keys into the air and catching them again with ease, she motioned with her head to the cell gate, looking down at Annie with that same calculative gaze, although her mouth was pursed in thought.

“I  _had_  wanted to wait it out, then toss your corpse in an ice box for dissection, and yes, perhaps even offer you as a snack to our titan shifters.” Hange clicked her tongue, “But former team mates of yours highly disagreed with that plan, they fought tooth and nail for this arrangement with the others, and I wanted to respect their wishes.”

Hange sauntered out of the cell, though Levi stayed behind inside the prison, he was Annie’s only trusted guard, after all. Annie battled his glare, but his was far more effective, she turned to see Hange swivel around, nearly half-way out the heavily barricaded door.

“I want to know what  _your_  final wishes are now, Annie, so let’s not waste any more time.” She said, and then she was gone, descending up the thousands of steps that led to the surface. Annie wasn’t given a moment’s notice before Levi kicked at her leg not to lightly, his face haggard, but still furious because when he looked at her, all he saw was the monster that inhabited her. That she-devil that slaughtered his beloved squad. 

“Get up.”

She did. Trailing in front of him on wobbly legs, Annie stood in front of the cell gate, unsure of herself, frightened, but shamefully… delighted? Where did  _that_ come from? Levi came up from behind and shoved her arm, made her stagger somewhat.

She caught herself, tossing an icy glare over her shoulder. Captain Levi wasn’t at all a tall man, only standing a measly three inches above her—but Annie knew height wasn’t a mandatory factor when it came to power.

“You want to know what I wish for?” Annie licked the dryness off her lips—Levi seemed disgusted by the action, he nudged her again with his free arm.

“No. Keep walking.”

Annie sighed, following that same path as the Commander, she descended up the elongated steps, leaving the filth ridden cell behind. Levi shadowed her constantly, pushed her when she walked to slow, she felt out of breath when they came to a curve in the endless stairway. Annie’s legs trembled, they felt about ready to give out—had this been her four years ago, she would’ve never shown this much weakness in front of her enemies.

But just like Eren, she too, had become battered, and wrung from war.

 “I wish I could go home.” She mumbled, halfway to the surface of Castle Yggdrasil.

Behind her Levi scoffed, “You better wish for a bath or something, because that ain’t happening.”

 

* * *

 

 

District Utopia—as Annie found out where the Survey Corp had been keeping her this entire time—was one of the few Districts that contained vast underground passages, and the secret tunnels all eventually led to the Subterranean civilization directly under the Capitol City, Mitras, where the young Queen reigned. She'd traveled down these passages once, tailing a tall lanky man in black whom she suspected was a close friend of the former king's. That encounter certainly hadn't gone well. 

It didn’t surprise Annie either that the Survey Corp would use these secret passages for transportation—especially given the fact that their own Captain knew these tunnels like the back of his hand, being that he was born and raised in the underground.

It was no wonder why he had such a crude way of speaking, vermin only bred more vermin. That aside—when Annie said she wished to go back home, she meant her  _actual_  home—the one miles across the sea, secluded within the Ghettos the Marley retained. She had been thoroughly deliberate with the Commander on her final wish.

But, of course, there were limitations as to what she could ask for, and what  _could_ be done for her. Annie was a public enemy—and in fact, nobody but the Queen, and most Survey Corp members knew of her crystal being breached. 

Her very existence had been forgotten by many of the population in Sina—her identity, that was. Hardly anyone, let alone what had been left of the Military Police, remembered an Annie Leonhardt ever living among them—What they did remember, however, was the blonde-haired titan that had trampled through their homes, causing destruction and chaos in its path.

The Survey Corp had intentionally wanted to keep it that way. Annie had no qualms with that arrangement—the less people who wanted to have her beheaded, the better. Though, this secrecy conflicted with the Commanders proposition; she instructed Annie to write a list of twenty wishes, only to have nearly half them crossed out, or simply ignored in favor of one the Commander’s own offers.

“ _Ah_ —so you want a sparring partner, for exercising, yeah?” Annie recalled the way Hange flexed her fingers, the sound of her popping knuckles made the Captain cringe horribly, “Well, we are kind of short on staff, right now, but I’d be happy to oblige you—or maybe, Levi?”

Annie turned them all down, outright neglecting to discuss anything the Commander put on the table. At the end, they did come to a hard bargain, and Annie came to terms that some miracles just couldn’t happen.

She bitterly accepted what could be given to her, she compromised, but she was still infuriated all to hell about the outcome. Twenty wishes, and only five could be done in her favor.

  1. _I wish to go home._



Annie’s final, and only true wish. The very essence that was keeping her on her own two feet—trumped, and thrown in the bin. Flat-out disregarded, and deemed impossible. They did give her an ultimatum—to call an abandoned cabin in the heart of the Subterranean City her  _new_  home—that, or reside forever inside Yggdrasil as a prisoner with limited parole. She took the bait, what else could she do? Godspeed to her father, wherever he was.

  1. _I wish for an order of protection against various Survey Corp soldiers._



Despite her existence being invisible to the majority, word still broke out in the Survey Corp, even soldiers tend to gossip, the Commander had to have known that would occur, which was why she had told only four of her men. Then four became six—and six became  _sixteen_ , soon entire squadrons were aware that the Female Titan was back and breathing. Annie wasn’t naive, Hange had chosen Levi to be her only guard, not just because he was capable, but  _certain_ peoples grudges ran deep,  _certain_  people couldn’t be trusted. Annie just wanted to able to live without someone trying to cut her nape open for once.

  1. _I wish for better food._



The grub they fed her was bland, tasteless porridge, with a side of harder than stone bread, and lukewarm water from a flask. Annie wasn’t picky, but she had standards, and she could use some meat in her diet.

  1. _I wish to be pardoned for my crimes._



Captain Levi had glowered at her menacingly from beside Hange, while the older woman recited her wish aloud. But Annie had an arsenal up her sleeve—the strongest being the whole her knocking on death’s door in about a year to rebut anything they could use against her—Yes, Annie was aware she was basically a terrorist, and yes, asking to be excused for murdering countless of their own soldiers was the most outrageous thing she could attempt.

 But she  _had_ given them all the information they had ever wanted to know about the Marley, Old Eldia, the titan serums—hell, even the living conditions of the Eldians'. Just about everything they could squeeze out of her; even her own ability to shift would soon be passed on. What else use could they have of her here? Besides the Commander’s grotesque experiments, that were pointless, and proved nothing other than the fact that the Survey Corp leader was an absolute nutcase.

Annie won—because in the end, she really was just a dying girl, and they had no choice but to grant her her dying wishes. Levi’s glaring had increased ten-fold after that.

  1. _I wish for my freedom._



Easier said than done, but passable. Not without a few adjustments by the Commander herself, of course.

“It’s going to go like this,” Hange told her, while hunching forward on her desk, fingers laced together. “I, the Commander of the Survey Corp, will hereby pardon you, Annie Leonhardt, of your crimes, your treason will be overlooked on the Queen’s behalf, and I will grant you the protection against my fellow soldiers— “

“Most.”

“ _Most_  of my fellow soldiers, as well as provide you with the food and shelter you desire.”

Annie hadn’t commented on the desiring part but  _oh_ —she wished she could have. What she  _desired_ was to go back from where she came from.  Hange might’ve noticed Annie’s hostility towards her, the harsh way the girl swallowed and averted her eyes might’ve given it away. But if she did, the Commander only cocked her head to the side curiously—hadn’t pressed any further.

“And,” Hange did snap her attention to Levi, who had remained silent behind them, arms folded, leaning against the door—he cocked an eyebrow, though Hange’s facial expression remained rigid, before focusing on Annie again. “I will allow you to live in peaceful solitude, underground, without any surveillance or disturbance from the Survey Corp.” Hange clicked her tongue. “Only if you agree on the terms I will now issue.”

Annie locked gazes with the Commander.  Of course, she figured that this would happen. Freedom wasn’t free for her anymore. It was Give and Take now. Annie didn’t meander from the topic, she just leaned back into her seat, hands folded in her lap.

“What’s your proposition?”

“ _Propositions._ ” The Commander corrected, adjusted her spectacles further up her nose. “I have only three. The first will be that your power will no longer belong to you, it will belong to the Survey Corp, as such, you are prohibited from shifting.”

Annie only stared, half- perplexed. “What if I’m attacked, stabbed or provoked, and I shift on impulse?”

Hange chuckled, the was sound low and discerning, she shook her head, smiling. “Annie, you and I both know you have far more control than that. And even if that were the case, it is still against the protocol, your existence will no longer be a secret, and we’d have no choice but to exterminate you.”

“That’ll make things easier for me.” Levi grunted in the background. Annie tuned him out, she tongued the inside of her cheek. It was true—she had outstanding control over her titan ability, but it would take a considerable amount of effort to live normally, like an actual human being, like she wasn’t someone who held the power of a fifteen-meter giant in her. But it wouldn’t be the worst of things she’d been put through.

“I’ll no longer shift for as long as I live,” Annie sighed tiredly—yeah, she didn’t have much time left to live, and being reminded of that constantly was really giving her a headache. “I fully surrender my power to the Survey Corp.”

Hange clapped her hands together, smiled triumphantly. “Awesome! On to the next.” She cleared her throat, resting her hands back together on the desk. “You are banned from ever leaving the underground. Should you disobey, and go to the surface, you will be immediately apprehended—and yes. Exterminated after.” Hange added before Annie could question her on that prospect.

Annie’s face twisted into one of confusion—a retort just at the tip of her tongue, but Hange was quick to continue. The Commander sure did love to run her mouth.

“The reason why I applied this condition, is because the people of the Subterranean City have never seen your face, let alone even hear of the  _Female Titan_. But on the surface, no matter how invisible you seem to be, even if you change your hair, there will always be one or two people who will recognize you, be it your face, voice, body shape.  _Etcetera_.” Hange made a motion with her hand. Annie got the point.

“So, you want me to stay underground until the day I die.”

“Yes.”

“And, I won’t ever be able to see the sky again.” Annie scratched absentmindedly at her arm.

“No, you will not.”

“Alright, fine. I agree.”

Hange’s brows shot up to her forehead. “Is that so? Just like that?”

“I was never really a fan of the sun in the first place.” Annie shrugged.

Behind her, she heard the Captain snicker quietly, but then conceal it in a rough cough. Annie was a perceptive girl, she knew the real reason why the Commander would forbid her from ever going to the surface, and provide her a home, but  _only_  in the underground. Annie was a formidable foe—or had been. Hange was just taking precaution, and she was right to do so.

The Commander rested against her plush chair, stretching her arms high, high above her head, until a pop came—Levi made a disgusted noise. She sighed contently, dropping her arms onto the desk. Hange was never one to sit still, and doing so every single day was putting a strain on her bones. “Okay then, now for my final term. Well, this is going to be more of a suggestion, if anything.”

Annie cocked a blonde eyebrow. Levi shuffled to stand up straight.

“I forbid—no, I would  _advise_  that you no longer engage in lewd activities with anyone, as doing so would only heighten the possibility of you getting pregnant, and that would, in fact be a danger not only to you, but to us, and the outcome that comes from it.”

Annie wanted to laugh. She had never wanted to laugh more than she did right at that moment. Even if her face betrayed nothing but a quiver at the corner of lips, she bit at her finger nails to stave off the urge too. Shrugged again, tucked a locket of blonde hair behind her ear.

“So, you want me to swear off sex?”              

“It would be a wise thing to do.” The Commander reassured, “You see if you were to copulate with someone, then the power you hold will be transferred to your offspring. I’d rather have the power switch randomly to someone within the walls, than have to raise a baby shifter.”

“I ain’t taking care of nobody’s kids.” Levi rumbled, “Especially the brat of a bloody titan shifter.”

Annie pretended not to hear that. Though she was still a virgin, she never had her first kiss, or even held hands with someone of the opposite sex. Sure, she had used to play the coquettish, frail maiden from time to time—it was one way of getting what she wanted without having to bruise her fists—or simply just because she liked to fuck with people’s heads. Namely Eren Jaeger’s— _Wait._  

Why did he have to pop into her head right there, when they were talking about sex, and pregnancy? And  _warding off_  intimacy in general? She could already see his cloudy green gaze, the down-turned corners of his lips, and tousled chest-nut hair. 

Annie loudly exhaled, cleared her thoughts. Erased them. Tucked some away for later use. Hange observed her the whole time. “I’ll do it. I won’t have sexual relations with anyone.”

The Commander made an endearing sound in her throat, then she opened a small drawer under her desk, and took out a quill, an ink jar, and a parchment. Placing all three items in front of Annie. The Parchment was already written with the declaration made by Hange, passed by the Queen herself, and signed in the Commander’s own chicken scrawl, all that was left was the tiny little space just after Hange’s name. Underlined, and with an  _x_  on one side.

A  _Terms of Agreement_ , of a sort. Annie felt her head throb with the beginnings of a migraine. She took the quill, dipped it in the ink, and pledged herself to another shitty life.

Another month had gone by—and soon enough, Annie found herself standing in front of an old, worn down looking cabin. Miles and miles beneath the royal Capitol, nestled between an underground farmhouse, and in the middle of fucking nowhere. Only a stream of sunlight beamed brightly from a breech in the terrain above. Right onto the nearly bare roof.

“Suck it up, Princess.”

Annie cringed, and Captain Levi came strolling to her side in his civvies. A crate of produce in his arms. A portion of what would be her new diet. She suspected the food would get her by for another couple of months before she had to find another source. 

Levi turned to her, then to the abandoned home. “You got off easy, you know. If it were  _me_ …” he trailed off, shook his head, dropped the crate at her feet without a care of damaging the goods inside it.

Annie gave it a glance, then to Levi who stared at her in that callous way of his.

“You should get a weapon.”

Annie blinked. “Huh?”

“The undergrounds aren’t safe. Not even for a girl of your status.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you think you're hot shit, and listen to me Princess,” Levi folded his arms, narrowing gray-blue eyes her way. “I wouldn’t disregard your neighbors either. Don’t believe that just because you know how to throw a punch, your all fine and dandy.”

Annie blew tendrils of blonde from her face, looking at him from under her lashes which she batted flirtatiously. “Oh yeah? Are going to protect a small, frail girl like me than,  _Captain?”_

Levi snorted, slightly amused but disgusted nonetheless. He shook his head. “Piss off little girl.”

 


	2. A Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know fans scream for a redemption arc when it comes to Annie. But let's be real; not everything is gonna be all fine and dandy between her and the Survey Corp. They are not going to accept her with open arms, she killed far to many of their soldiers, which is why I believe if she ever does come back, there's going to be a great divide between people who want her on their side, the people who want her dead, and the people who want her gone. That being said, this story will get really shippy soon, so...it get's less realistic from there on out. But I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless! :p

**_Day 20 of Annie Leonhardt's Imprisonment_ **

* * *

 

Queen Historia Reiss was the epitome of elegance, and purity. She was the face of kindness—so dainty, and beautiful, but stern and ambitious all at once. A real goddess fallen from the heavens to guide the people of the walls into an era of peace, into another decade of ignorant bliss.

She did her part well as the people’s Queen, she polished her speeches, she wore the silk robes, she inspired the masses. Her coronation had settled without a single inkling of doubt, four years ago, when she had slain her own father. When she proved her worthiness to the people within the walls. Historia Reiss became the beating heart of humanity. Christa Lens became a mere whisper in the wind, the very name erased from the tongues of the few who had known such a girl existed.

In four years, people only knew the name Historia Reiss—and the Queen preferred it that way. She lounged, now, in one of her many private chambers. Gazing out the balcony of the North Tower, overlooking the Capitol Mitras, bathed in the dying light of dusk. The Wall of Sina loomed miles ahead, stretching far across the land. Queen Reiss traced the outer rim of her chalice, lost deep in her thoughts. Shadowed blue’s drifted to a faraway place. They saw something beyond the fifty meter walls, something beyond the civilization built on the backs of their ancestors. Their ancestors. The original Eldians. The black emptiness that swelled inside her threatened to take over again—She sipped silently at her wine, only to have nothing tarty reach her tongue.

The heart of humanity was made of glass, but nobody could see that when they were standing beneath the podium, looking from a great distance. The Queen could be considered the best actress in all the Kingdom. In the eyes of her peers, however, she was just another shell-shocked victim of war. Slowly decaying inside, but still surviving. She kept her promise of doing good by the people, but lost part of herself in the ongoing bloodshed between the Marley and the Eldians. A thousand-year war that would never stop until all nine powers of the titans ceased to exist. That would never happen, it was a curse that would continue until the end of time. 

 She had been nearly assassinated twice in her three-year reign so far—both assailants had failed, and were beheaded. They had been refugees of the Marley, not even warriors, but mere men who had only wanted a better life in trade for her own. She wondered sometimes, about their families. Who they were, if they had sons or daughters, if their sons or daughters had children of their own.

Then the Queen’s mind would wander to a freckled dark-haired girl, because any basis of her idle thinking would always, always land right back to that girl. Despite her being long gone from this world. It did not bother Queen Reiss anymore, when she found herself thinking about a lost love. In fact, it brought about a warm peace that bloomed like a rose in her chest.

“Would care for some more wine, Your highness?”

“Yes, please.”

Ymir would live on in her memory, snarky and smirking, all sharpened edges like a knife, but soft when she should be. Ymir, a goddess given a name, just like Historia Reiss.

The Queen smiled into the rim of her jeweled chalice—it wasn’t so bad playing goddess, but that was only because the consequences came later in life. She suffered so her people wouldn’t have too, she endured the brunt of it all because she wanted them to not live in fear any longer.

That’s what a goddess did. She sacrificed for the greater good of her people. A Queen ruled, and mandated power. Historia Reiss was both, and she would continue to be until her dying day.

“Drinking alone again?” Queen Reiss lowered her cup, quirking a blonde brow at her not-so-new visitor, the Hope of Humanity himself, Eren Jaeger. He strode right through the double doors, as if he weren’t disturbing the Queen of her idle hours, but simply paying a visit to a friend. Queen Reiss’s servant eyed him distastefully, probably on the verge of seeing Eren off, but the Queen quickly dismissed him, not before asking him to leave the bottle of wine.

“Are you insinuating that I usually drink with others?”

Eren brushed past the servant who sealed the doors shut behind them, grabbing a seat across the marble table from the Queen, and plopping himself down in it. He nodded to the red wine bottle placed in the ice bucket between them, “No, but you usually share a drink with me.”

Historia caught on his implication, offering him her chalice. Eren reached out and took it with an appreciative smile.  Downing the rest of the alcohol in one gulp, he placed the chalice delicately onto the table as he swallowed. Historia giggled halfheartedly, but folded her arms in the way a parent would before they berated their child.

“So, that’s where all of my liquor has been disappearing off too.” She shook her head at him. Eren shrugged sheepishly in response, though he still reached for the last wine bottle. Popping the cork open, and refilling his cup. Then tilting his head back, and downing that one too. These days, he spent way too much of his time in the taverns of Sina, drinking himself into a stupor, until his body numbed to his toes, the ache in his chest dissipated; and everything, and everyone around him became a wonderful blur. Nobody knew of this, but the Queen and his closest friends, of course. Soldiers were prohibited from heavy drinking, unless it were a special occasion, or a celebration of a sort.

Eren just wanted to get drunk, he wanted to drown his worries, his sorrows, his regrets in the hard liquor. He wanted to feel nothing, nothing at all. Then pass out in his bed, un-plagued by the nightmares that weren’t even his own.

“It’s not my fault the royal pantry Guards are so easy to bypass.” Eren quipped, gripping the neck of the wine bottle, he poured himself another cup. Historia rolled her brilliant blues at him, making a note to administer better pantry guards. She watched Eren knock back his third cup, and then refill for a forth one. She’d worry for his health; had he not already have a time limit put on his life.

She would stop him, tell him to snap out of it, pull himself together like she had been doing all along. But he saved her life more than once, and ever since that political feud, and race for power had occurred— ever since their shared epiphany in that cave— The two had grown to be incredibly close to each other. Historia did not want to risk their friendship over a couple bottles of stolen ale.

Though she wished he concealed his reason better. It was obvious the main cause of his drinking was being kept imprisoned, somewhere beneath Castle Yggdrasil of District Utopia. She had timed the start of Eren’s daily trips to the Taverns, to the breach of Annie Leonhardt’s crystal, and it lined up perfectly.

Historia was not a hypocrite; she drank to forget sometimes as well, but also to remember the good old days. The fun, blood and sweat-filled training days of the 104th was one of them. Ymir, was another. Eren drank because he felt he needed to feel some sort of release, an outlet to reduce his stress. She felt sympathy for him, he was too young to become an alcoholic. But she figured if she were the one with only four years left to live in this world, she’d also turn to the drink.

“M’not feeling anything.” Eren murmured, half-way done with his fifth cup of wine. Historia, stood from her seat, and snatched the chalice back from him before he could finish it. He protested, but quieted down when she threatened to take the bottle away from him too.

“That’s because the alcohol percentage in _this_ ,” She swirled the wine in her cup, then drank the rest of the contents, Eren pouted at her childishly. “Is below the average.”

He held out a hand for her to give up the chalice, but she held on to it, after a few seconds his hand flopped back to his side, and he grumbled, rubbing at his temple. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know.” Historia shrugged, moving to stand by the opened balcony, the autumn breeze felt good on her skin. “Because the brewers made it that way?”

“Well, demand that they make it better.” She heard a chair scrape across wooden floors behind her, and then Eren was standing right beside her, wine bottle in one hand. The sun that was setting beyond the walls on the horizon, made them cast elongated shadows that stretched on and on. The walls cast their own shadows over the residents of Sina.

Historia laughed, “I can’t do that.”

Eren whined, “Why not?”

“Because that is an abuse of my power.”

He scoffed, then took a swig straight from the wine bottle, Historia made a face when he offered it to her, turning the drink down. He shrugged, then rested his elbows on the stone railing of the balcony. The breeze ruffled his chest nut locks that he hardly bothered to maintain anymore.

“Abuse of power.” He parroted, and Historia nodded staring off in the sky, which was palette of warm and cool colors, blues and purples that bled into oranges and yellows. Dusk was Historia’s favorite time of day, the calming transformation from light to dark was always astounding to her, and so very beautiful.

“Historia.”

She turned her head to the young man who was trying to get a buzz off high-end wine, “Yes?”

Eren’s emerald eyes flitted down to his boots, he furrowed his brows, considering his next words carefully, took another swig of the bottle, and met her questioning gaze again.

“She has a year left to live, you know.” He said quietly, tone heavy and morose, the wind carried his words to the Queen’s ears. She almost forgot the real reason he was drinking an entire bottle of wine in the first place. _He didn't even like wine_. Historia allowed herself to feel the twinge of pity for the other blonde girl she’d barely known. She knew about Annie’s betrayal, and how deeply it had affected Eren, how it disturbed him to the point that it took a piece of shrapnel lodged into his chest, and Armin’s provocation to drive him to fight her.

She knew how much it angered him when the Survey Corp had accused her of being the Female Titan—she knew that familiar feeling of _utter shock, disbelief and confusion,_ that all swirled into one painful emotion, that _stung_ her heart when Ymir shifted for the first time— Because it had been just the same for Eren when he gazed at the monstrosity Annie had become. Back in Stohess.

 Even after the battle, after Annie’s crystallization, after Castle Utgard, after Ymir, after Reiner and Bertolt—After every event that was thrown at him, every realization, and threat. Eren still refused to believe it. Refused to accept the lie that Annie was. That'd she'd been. Eren had looked up to Reiner as an older brother, he looked up to Bertolt as tutor, and Annie... _what did he look up to Annie for?_ What caused him to fuss over Leonhardt until this day? 

It hurt Historia to see Eren hurt like this. Had she been Mikasa, she would have done something about it in a heartbeat. Like change the subject, or not say anything at all, and drop the conversation. Annie Leonhardt was a sour topic for the Ackerman girl, and Historia knew not to bring her name up so much in meetings whenever the other girl attended.

She digressed though, Historia was not Mikasa Ackerman. She was Queen Historia Reiss. The Queen who listened to the people’s problems, and delivered them a way out. The way Eren was looking at her now, like he had something more on his mind than just Annie Leonhardt, gave her the suggestion that he was formulating an idea. An idea that he was just about to reveal to her.

Historia breathed out, then breathed in crisp fresh air. “Yes, I’m aware, I heard from the Commander already.”

“Oh.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence, and then, “I have a proposal for you…it’s something Armin and I came up with when we were drunk- Well, when I was drunk. I was going to tell the Commander, but figured you should hear it first.” He stopped, took a swig of wine, then continued. “I thought it was silly, but now… I just—would you listen to it, please?”

She nodded. As expected, he delivered the plan all in one go, though it might have been the alcohol that caused him to do so. Eren did not skip a beat, he even emphasized the points he was making. How better it would be for her, for all of them. Historia took the plan into consideration. It was in fact, a very good plan, and it was not harmful to any of them. Annie Leonhardt may had been their enemy once, but now, she was just a girl dangling on a loose thread. Historia caught only a glimpse of her when they brought her in for a brief trial. She remembered how frail the other girl looked, not at all like the stoic Annie Leonhardt from before.

“That’s why I need you to be on our side.” Eren finished. He studied her reaction, which was a thoughtful one. Historia regarded him with a pointed stare—one that said _‘I am already on your side, idiot.’_

“Where is Armin now?” She asked.

Eren scrunched his brows together, he was going to end up with permanent forehead wrinkles that way, if he kept doing that. He made a non-committal noise, “Somewhere around, I forgot.”

Historia smoothed back her golden blonde hair, buttoning the top of her blouse, then sauntered over to where her royal cape rested on the back of the chair she’d been sitting on. She grabbed the cape, slung it over her shoulders, then called for a servant to deliver her more wine.

Eren tilted his head questionably, he watched her from where he was leaning against the balcony rail. Occasionally drinking from the wine bottle, which had warmed in his hand.

“What are you doing?”

Historia placed the crown on her head, adjusting it just so in the beauty mirror above her wardrobe. One of many in this tower, though Historia liked to leave little bits of herself everywhere.

“I’m going to hold a meeting.”

Eren raised an eyebrow, “For what?”

The Queen sighed sharply, sometimes she wished her dearest friend weren’t so naïve. “For your proposal, we are going to discuss it with the Commander right away.” She turned to him, the lounge was quite a big chamber, but even from where she stood, a couple of feet away from him. She could still see how his eyes rounded in surprise, and his grip on the bottle tightened enough to cause a tiny jagged crack run along the side of it.

Eren sputtered, “W-wait—hold on!” He pushed off the balcony, stormed right into her, until his chest was an inch away from her face. She could smell the grapes on his breath as he leaned down. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?” He pleaded, “I-I mean I know it was a proposal, but you don’t have to tell her right now, maybe think about it first?”

Historia was confused at her friends swinging moods, hadn’t he just proven to her that this was _the_ plan he wanted, the one he and Armin created when they were delightfully  _inebriated_ , just for the sake of that imprisoned girl?

“But I thought you wanted this?”

He sighed, “I do.”

She made a puzzled gesture at him, palms upturned, “Then why do you think it’d be good to hold it off?”

“I don’t…” Eren sighed again, “I don’t know.”

Historia knew, though. He feared the feedback he would receive, especially from the people he respected most. From his peers, from Mikasa, and the Captain. Armin was on his side though, and so was the Queen. That would be more than enough to fight for this proposal. Queen Reiss held Eren Jaeger slightly above the others, but that was only because of what they had experienced together. So, of course, she would back him up when he needed it most, be it against humanity, or their very own friends.

“Eren,” She said firmly, and it got his attention focused on her, however the alcohol in his system made him sway a bit. Historia placed a comforting hand on his arm, also to make him stand a little bit straighter, “Do you _really_ think it is a good idea to sit and wait,” She gazed up at him intently. “While Annie is still wasting away in a dungeon?”

Eren’s face was mixture of guilt and pensiveness, the near empty wine bottle was twisted nervously in his hands. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t you think that the sooner we relay this plan to the others, the sooner we could give Annie the freedom you’re striving to offer?”

“I don’t— “

“Eren.” Historia cut him off, covering strong tan hands that were tightening around the wine bottle with her own small pale ones. “Nobody will hate you for wanting to pass on Annie Leonhardt’s treason. The proposal you told me isn’t allowing her freedom straight away, it’s just loosening her chains a bit, giving her some fresh air. Kind of like a bargain. Well... no, _actually_ it’s more like granting her a… “

Historia trailed off, she racked her mind for the correct word to use. Something like this should come easy to her.

“It’s like granting her a— “

“Wish?” Eren found the word she’d been looking for.

She clasped her hands around his, that were still wrapped around the bottle. “Yes!” She nodded. “It would be like granting her a wish.”

Eren was not as moved as she, but he understood what she was getting at. He would achieve Annie’s freedom under the guise of granting her a dying wish, since she did have a year left to live, it would not be too difficult. Though, Historia was wrong about one thing. The others would hate him for even giving the suggestion of allowing a mass murderer to walk free. He hoped Armin came prepared for the onslaught of verbal abuse that would surely come their way.

“Okay.” He said, then breathed a little more easily, his grip loosened on the wine bottle, and Historia was grateful for that, anymore and he would have shattered the glass, and they’d both be smelling like fermented grapes for days.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Eren nodded, and Historia smiled brightly at him. He placed the wine bottle back into the ice bucket. Tending to his uniform buttons, before turning to the Queen, he said, “But first, we need to find Armin.”

 

* * *

**Evening Of Day 20**

Being talked down too by the Commander was certainly not on Armin’s list of _things-to-accomplish-by nightfall_ ; but it happened regardless, _and_ in front of the remaining senior Survey Corp soldiers, _as well_ as the Queen. Though Armin stood his ground, he argued in the most convincing way; he did whatever he could. This proposal was not just for him, or Eren. It was for her, too. It was _especially_ for her.

Armin adjusted his spectacles, leaning back against the wall of an endless corridor. Castle Yggdrasil really was a Castle of mazes, with its endless pathways, and so many doors that led to empty rooms, that led to more doors, that led to _more_ empty rooms; he had gotten lost countless times in his stay there so far. 

Before him was a cherry-wood door that opened directly to the Commander’s office. Inside sat the Commander herself, Captain Levi, Queen Historia, and his own trustworthy friends that he had battled alongside with for three years. That he had cried, and shared his terrible secrets with; most of them eyed him with looks of skepticism while he relayed the plan to Commander Hange. He understood them, they were right to do so, not everyone shared the same principles; not everyone was able to forgive and forget so easily.  

But it had been nearly four years. Four years should be enough, at least to be considerate of their enemy. A limited life-span should be enough, as well. But people held grudges higher than they did their own morality, he supposed. It was not let bygones be bygones, more like, let us turn a blind eye to the terror that was done by this one girl, so that she could live the last of her days in peace, and yes, Armin did realize that he was devising Annie Leonhardt a way out.

Armin was not alone, however; the idea was every bit Eren’s as it was his. He could not have done it without his dear friend; and if Eren was going down that path, then so would he.

The cherry-wood door swung open, and Armin’s eyes snapped up to meet the tired emerald gaze of his best friend. Eren sighed heavily, shutting the door behind him gentler than he had opened it. Armin could hear the soft murmuring of the occupants’ discussion within.

“I’m doing the right thing?” Eren leaned beside Armin, his eyes situated on the door, he had meant to make a statement, but it sounded more like he was asking himself a personal question. Armin smiled at him reassuringly.

“ _We’re_ doing the right thing.” He corrected, then added for the sake of it. “I hope.”

Eren was silent for moment, but only a moment.

“Armin.” he started, and Armin could tell from the tone of his voice where this was going. “You know, I couldn’t have pulled this off without you,” Eren turned to him, Armin could smell the remnants of wine on his breath. “I may have spouted some random idea when I was drunk, but you, you hung on to it, you flourished it. I just want to say, I appreciate all that— “

“Oh, stop it.” Armin scoffed, but he smiled too. “I merely gave them a better hypothetical view, is all. I mean, I don’t think it is fair.”

Eren’s face went from grateful, to dour in the span of a second.

“You know, Annie?” Armin explained, even though Eren was aware. “She doesn’t deserve to die in a cell. I know that what she did was…  _cruel_ , but…” Armin left it there.

Eren fidgeted beside him, responding with a gruff. “Yeah.” He wrung his hands together nervously, hands that would be scarred beyond recognition had it not been for his regenerative ability. He was quick to change the subject. “We could pull this off, I’m sure. Historia is on our side.”

Armin chuckled, “Against the majority, every Survey Corp member, not including us?”

“Armin, you should have a bit more faith in her.”

“Right, like you get faith from _a bottle_ —!” Armin’s ocean-blue eyes widened like saucers, he slapped his hands over his mouth, turning to Eren with a guilt-ridden face. The words had slipped from his tongue before he could stop them.

He sputtered out a quick apology as not to offend his best friend. “I didn’t mean— _I’m sorry_ , I wasn’t thinking.”

Eren did not seem at all bothered by it, instead he gave a careless shrug. “It’s fine, you’re right, anyway.”

Armin felt he did not apologize enough, but the moment he opened his mouth to express his forgiveness, Jean came barreling out of Commander Hange’s office, the door slammed shut behind him. The force of his dramatic exit caused a sudden sharp gust in the corridor. A shiver crept up Armin’s spine as he met Jean’s cold amber gaze. Jean said nothing, his expression downcast, then his eyes glued to the floor, and he did not even acknowledge Eren’s existence as he stormed down the opposite direction, hands balled into tight fists.

Eren and Armin shared a look; Armin’s rueful, but preparing for the backlash that would come their way, Eren’s far more adamant. They squared their shoulders, held their chins up high, the meeting was coming to an end, and people would be shuffling out any given moment now. Their people. Eren grumbled.

“I want a drink after this.”

“Same here.”

Armin gave a pinched smile. The next person to exit the Commanders office was Connie Springer; his once shaved head, now covered in a mop of dirty blond curls that he usually slicked back. His mouth was drawn in a frown, and there was a bothered wrinkle between his brows. He stopped abruptly, right in front of them, mouth opening and closing, trying to voice what was in his head, tell the two exactly how he felt about the situation, but no words formed. Connie was at a loss of what to say, so he shut his mouth, frowning tighter than before. Shaking his head with a huff, and then stormed after Jean.

Sasha came running out of the office, her short bob cut swishing about her face. “Connie!” She called after him, but he did not glance back at her, just continued walking. Connie was hurt. Armin felt empathic, he felt that twisting sting in his chest, he turned to Eren, and he knew, Eren was feeling it too.

Sasha Blouse, their other longtime friend, faced them, her big doe eyes slightly watery, “I’m sorry,” She stepped closer to them, chewing into the bottom of her lip, “He doesn’t hate ya’ll I swear, he just,” She sighed, “He has personal vendetta against the Beast titan, you know, what happened to his family, and all, and—and you know Connie, he involves anyone associated with _anything_ he hates…so that includes Annie.”

At the mention of the Beast titan, Eren briefly stiffened. Armin noticed. He had been doing that a lot lately, when it came to that man. Armin reassured Sasha that Connie’s attitude towards them was perfectly justified. As was Jean’s. Annie had admitted to aiding Reiner, and Bertolt in killing Marco Bodt, after all. There was no way Jean would ever forgive his late friend’s murderer, but that was alright. It was alright if he hated them too.

Sasha thanked the two shifters for excusing Connie, but did not take off immediately, she stood there idly, still chewing absently at her bottom lip. Armin found himself distracted, staring at her mouth a little too long to be considered a mere glance. He forced himself to look elsewhere, like her big brown eyes, that were gazing down at him with something akin to respect. Armin felt his cheeks flush, and the tips of ears tingle.

“Sasha?”

She blinked, suddenly brought back to the real world. “Oh-! I just…Just wanted to let ya’ll know that I’ve sided with you, on this.” Sasha gestured to the door behind her, “What you’re doing for…you know.”

Armin found it strange how people could pass around Annie’s name like it meant nothing to them; but then treat it like something forbidden, poisonous to their ears. But he digressed. Sasha came to stand by his right side, and Armin thanked his growth spurt for giving him an extra inch in height. Grateful that they were both about the same size. Eren slumped opposite of him against the wall, most likely mulling over the amount of alcohol he was going to consume when this was over.

“I don’t think it’s right to just abandon her.” Sasha murmured, “I mean, everyone deserves a redemption, right?”

 _Wrong_. Armin wanted to say. Not everyone. He turned his head to Eren for support, only to find his friend completely indifferent, and pulling on the split ends of his hair, Armin faced Sasha, forcing what he hoped was a pleasant smile. “Yeah, thanks Sasha.”

She grinned at him, and Armin was distracted by the pretty dimples on her cheeks. “It’s nothin’” She chirped, her sullen mood forgotten, “Anything for my friends!” She punched his arm playfully, Armin winced. And the red-cherry door swung open again, Armin felt Eren jerk beside him to stand straighter, hands dropping to his sides.

“Captain!” Eren saluted, then his eyes drifted to the Captain’s silent companion behind him, and in a much softer tone, he greeted, “ _Mikasa_.”

She looked away from him, Eren became crestfallen. Armin noted, that ragged red scarf she was usually not seen without, was not wrapped around her neck, but instead clutched tightly in her fist. It was Mikasa’s way of telling Eren, that something was wrong, something was greatly bothering her, and that something had to do with Eren. Captain Levi, sensing the drama that was about to ensue, let Mikasa step in front of him, and he waited, leaning against the Commanders door, examining his finger nails.

“Mikasa I—“ Eren started, but was cut short but the hand she held up, the one that did not hold the scarf.

“Don’t.” She shook her head, and looked him right in the eye. Eren could see his panicked reflection shine in those dark cobalt irises. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing for that girl.” She told them both, truthfully, Sasha shamefully hid behind Armin’s back.

“After everything she did _to you_ ,” Mikasa said, her soft voice reaching that of a whisper, Eren swallowed down his anxiety. “To all of us.”

The three said nothing. Though Mikasa had been speaking directly to Eren; Armin could see the spite rise in Eren from the way his jaw locked, and his hands trembled so noticeably, he buried them inside his cloak. Armin knew the signs of when Eren was about to have an outburst, and one he would be ashamed for, later. 

“Eren— “

“So, you would rather have her die in a cage?” Eren spat, holding back the tremor in his voice, “Like a dog, huh, because she _deserves_ it?”

Mikasa’s expression remained passive, but inside, Armin knew Eren was causing her a deep distress. “I am not taking any sides.” She told him, final, then turned on her heel, “I just hope you know what you’re doing.” With that came that sound of her clacking boots, as she walked down the long corridor, the same path both Connie, and Jean had gone. The end of that corridor seemed so dark in contrast to where they stood under the yellow glow of a fire-lamp, Armin guessed it might have been midnight already.

“Of course we do!” Eren shouted after her, his loud, broken voice echoing down the halls. Armin spotted the Captain sneak up behind the other shifter, and cuff him right in his nape.

“Shut up. Can’t you see there’s a meeting going on?” Levi snapped. Eren winced, turning to him, red-face from embarrassment, and irritated, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes drifted elsewhere, but the Captain.

Levi sighed, exhaustion evident on his features. “I can’t even put into words how disappointed I am right now.”

In that moment, Eren, Armin, and even Sasha, all equally felt that shameful contempt roiling in their guts, making them avoid eye-contact with each other. Captain Levi was highly respected among the Survey Corp, he was their Squad Leader, they all looked up to him, and to be scolded by _him_ was like to be scolded by their own father figure.

At least to Eren, it was that way. Armin felt he did not want to be chewed out by both of his Captain, and Commander all in one day.

“She’s worried, you know. Give her some time.” The Captain stated, looking to Eren, then Armin, and Sasha, who shyly crept away from her hiding spot behind Armin.

“I know.” Eren sighed,  running a hand through his mussed hair, “I will.”

“Another thing,” Levi added, coming around to face them all, “The proposal _will_ be happening, starting a week from now.”

At this, Armin was taken back, eyes wide with disbelief, him and Eren yelled _“What?!”_ in unison. Levi rubbed at his temple, clearly fed-up with these loud as hell teens.

“Really?!” Eren could not believe it had been passed that quickly, in a single day as well. Historia must have worked her negotiating well.

“Yeah,” Levi stared at him levelly, or as much he could at his height. “Only Hange is going to be making the demands. Not you two brats.”

“We wouldn’t want it any other way, Captain.”

“Right, well.” Levi made an about face, the opposite direction of where Mikasa, Jean and Connie had disappeared off too. He stuffed his hands in pockets. “If you’ll excuse me, I gotta’ take a dump, so you three, wait for Hange and Queen Historia, Got it?”

They all blinked owlishly, “Yes, Captain.”

When Captain Levi was finally out of ear shot, Sasha turned to them both, exuberant and smiling wide, but it all faded when she took in their puzzling faces.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” She gently poked Armin’s shoulder to get his attention on her, “Your proposal was confirmed!”

“I know, it’s just, that was unbelievably quick. Don’t you think?” His last sentence was directed at Eren, who nodded numbly, brows scrunched together, eyes downcast, as if he were in the mid of a deep thought. Sasha noticed this.

“Well, yeah. But, Historia might’ve just worked her magic, right?” She looked questionably at Armin.

“No,” Armin mumbled, “That can’t be it.”

“Armin?”

Something was off, something was not right. Armin could not work his mind around it; until a week later, in the gardens of Castle Yggdrasil, he realized, it was that their own Commander had _swindled_ their plans.

Then a month later, Armin stood, thousands of feet underground, beneath the Capitol Mitras, before the cabin that they’d incidentally condemned Annie Leonhardt too. A life of isolation. He knocked with one fist, twice, on the carved plywood door, that did not even have a knob. Armin assumed it was new. The unusual dimness of the underground did not sit right with him—it felt like he had gone into a whole other world, entirely different from his own. A haunted wonderland, Armin mused. Though the sun far above the terrain, still seemed to touch this old, neglected cabin through the cracks, giving its roof a soft ethereal glow on the edges.

Armin released the breath he was holding, the air down there was musty, like something that had been in the closet for far too long. He knocked again, stepping back to peer through the curtained window beside the door, when he heard a click, and the rattle of chains that followed.

The door creaked open, and Armin smiled briefly at the confused owner, before thrusting the pile of heavy books he had been holding into her arms. Annie blinked at him, struggling to hold each book so they wouldn’t fall from her grasp.

“What—what is this?” She gasped, one smaller pamphlet fell from the pile, and landed near Armin’s feet. He picked it up, tucking it under his arm. “Just some entertainment.” Armin shrugged, “So you won’t get bored.”

Annie narrowed her icy eyes at him, “Why?”

“Because I think you’ll like the literature of Homer, and Plato, they are very exquisite authors from a thousand years—“

“No.” Annie sighed, adjusting the books as not to put so much strain on her arms. She tilted her head, wondering, _wondering_. “Why did you come down here?”

At this Armin replied with the utmost honesty, “Because I think you need a friend.”


	3. An Allegory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably be one of my best chapters I've done so far, but I'll leave that up to the critiques. lol  
> Now from the title, YES, there is references to classic literature in this, the illiad by Homer, and Plato's Allegory of the cave, and you can guess right away what nerd goes into full detail about that. ;)

**PT.III An Allegory**

The cabin was ancient, as far as Annie could tell. From the clay-baked bricks to the aged crumbling foundation; she speculated it dated back around fifty or so years, probably even further, before the three walls were even built on Paradi Island. It wasn’t very spacious either, in fact, she was sure her dungeon cell had been quite larger.

The inside smelt of wood rot, and rust. There were only two windows; one of them caked with so much dust and grime, it created a layer of filth that could be peeled off like a second skin. The other—at the side of the cabin—had slivers of cracks that ran jagged over the glass surface.

Near the cracked window, situated right in the middle of the stooping front porch, was the front door, or what _would had been_ the front door.

The threshold was stripped bare, wide-open to any passerby’s, Annie could peer right into the darkness of the cabin. If there had been a door, it’s long since been fallen off its hinges. That or a wandering thief _might_ have had a need for it. Annie wouldn’t be so surprised at that notion; especially in an underground society, the laws that were abided above couldn’t reach the ears of those who dwelled below.

Annie figured she’d blend right in with these criminals and beggars. Although, Captain— _I’m a hard-ass at all times_ —Levi, thought otherwise. For the first few days of settling in her new home; the Commander had assigned him to aid her in tidying things up, as he was, _apparently_ the most efficient one in doing tasks such as cleaning and rearranging. He was reluctant at first, but seeing the inside of the cabin had _instinctively_ changed his mind.

 He couldn’t bare looking at filth for more than a minute. So, begrudgingly, he did help her make the interior more livable. And with a pissed off glare, or an irritated demand tossed her way every ten minutes.

“You see this, right here?” Levi jutted his chin to a dirty bronze spout, a tin bucket dangled from the curve of the faucet; a large basin sat below it. The two stood in _what would be_ considered the _‘backyard’_. Which was Just a slab of cold, hard stone, flanked by weeds, and roots, and other plants that didn’t thrive off sun light so much.

Annie couldn’t complain, she wasn’t allowed to, really. At the very least, the front porch didn’t look as hideous as the backyard.

Levi took hold of the handle that stuck out from the end of the water pump, and pushed down, grunting at the bit of resistance, he pushed down harder, fighting against decades old rust.  “ _This_ is where you’ll get your water.”

Annie blinked, arms folded nonchalantly. “What is that?”

“A water pump.” Levi huffed, “ _For water.”_

“I know _that.”_

“Then don’t ask stupid questions.”

Eventually, Levi managed to get the spout working with one final, and swear inducing push. It spat a half-gallon’s worth of water into the bucket— _unfortunately_ , the force of the pump caused the water to splash everywhere, dousing Levi’s recently ironed shirt, _and_ his precious cravat. Annie fought against the urge to laugh at his shame, knowing full well he expected a brat like her would do so.

He cursed again, stepping away, and very calmly removed his cravat, then began wringing the drenched cloth in his hands. Annie watched him, spiteful amusement glinting in her dull azure eyes.

High above them, the sun light’s beams poured through the cracks of the rocky terrain. Levi coughed, whipping the cravat dry. She secretly hoped he caught the flu, that extremely anal man. Her fingers crossed.

“So, where is the water coming from?” She asked, idly examining the cave-like walls that enclosed the whole area. It _was_ an odd miracle that there would be access to water miles beneath the surface of land; and of course, Captain Levi pretended not hear her, wiping the flecks of water off his face with the cravat; looking very much like an angry wet cat.

“Is it even clean?”

Levi grunted, “The hell should I know?” He flicked his wrist at her, carelessly, “Go grab the bucket, bring it inside, the floors still need to be mopped.”

Annie, adamant as always, stayed rooted to her spot, _just_ to test his patience—which he obviously _did not_ have any to spare. “You stalling?” Levi turned to her sharply, tongue in cheek. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, grab the bucket, and _go_.”

She did not take one step; equally challenging his dark glare with blank blue eyes. _Oh_ —did Annie sure love to get on men’s nerves. Especially one’s she greatly loathed. Levi worked his jaw muscle irritably, blue and green lines popped from the stark white of his hand as he clutched the cravat tightly.

_“Princess.”_ He spat through clenched teeth, each syllable enunciated venomously, “Would you be a dear, and bring that _fucking bucket inside?”_

The use of her slanderous nick name made the corners of her lips quirk almost wickedly; though Annie gave no indication of feeling the brunt satisfaction from toying with the small fry Captain.  

“Well, since you asked _so nicely_ …” Annie sauntered on pass him, hefting up the heavy bucket from its handle—Levi’s eye’s burned pin holes into the back of her head. Annie was sure his hands were itching to close around her throat right then. He shadowed her until she had carefully placed the bucket down on to the dirty wood panel floors of the cabin.

“Listen,” he said, still practically seething. Annie braced herself for yet another one of his empty threats that either involved slitting her nape, or hacking off her limbs for being disobedient. Though, to her utter disbelief; it was none of that, nor was it a threat.

“If you’re gonna’ drink from the water pump, I suggest boiling the water first, to get rid of the bacteria,” Levi cleared his throat, “and other shit… like that.” 

Annie paused in soaking the mop momentarily to glance at the Captain, taken back by his sudden calmness when not a minute earlier he was clearly ready to strangle her. She said nothing but nodded as affirmation. Levi was probably the oddest man she’d ever have the displeasure of meeting in person.

He nudged the bucket with his boot, causing the water to slosh onto the creaky floor panels. “Now get to mopping these floors, I’m tired of seeing this filth.”

Captain Levi _was_ odd—Annie grimaced as she plunged her hands into the lukewarm water— _and_ the biggest passive-aggressive asshole she’d ever encounter in her short life.

 

* * *

 

**One Month Later**

 

“It’s very clean in here…  _a-and_ quite warm!” Armin chirped from where he perched on an old writing desk, the books he gifted to Annie all piled neatly by his side. A single lit candle dripped wax on to its holder; the light it gave off only bathed a portion of the small room in a dim yellow glow, shadows cut diagonally across the space, as if it forbade the light to enter its side.

There, sitting on the bare cot-bed, riddled with holes, sat Annie Leonhardt. Watching him with eye’s like ice, and an expression too match, on guard as always, when it came to him. Of course, Armin did not expect her to act any different toward him, even after he had revealed to her all the events that happened while she was still crystallized. Well, a portion of them.

It was more out of the kindness of his heart that he did so, anyway. They have had their differences in the past, yes, and he was very much as i _nconspicuous_ at mind-probing as a graduated psychiatrist. He understood her lingering suspicion, and he welcomed it.

But, right now, he just wanted her to be comfortable around him, to freely speak without fearing he would eat up her words and regurgitate them to his superiors later. He wanted her to _feel_ at home, in this new home.

Armin glanced to the ratty old bed sheet that covered the window next to the door, then the icebox at the middle back of the cabin. Searching his brain for some mundane topic she’d likely ignore anyway.

“I love what you’ve done with the interior so far,” He smiled, though a bit forced, “I hope it suit’s your needs.”

From her end, he heard an indignant scoff, and some fumbling of the cot. Good, he thought, at least she’s responding to _something_. He surveyed the area, looking to find another useless item to talk about, when she spoke.

“Armin?”

Surprised to hear voice after being silent for so long, he startled. “Y-yes?”

She paused for a moment, Armin could hear the gears spinning in her head. “I still don’t understand…” She murmured.

He leaned forward, piqued in her wonder. “Understand… _what_?”

“…Why you’ve come.” Annie met his eyes than, like glaciers stagnant, caught in the far, far away oceans of winter. The Arctic ocean, it was called. He remembered, _The arctic ocean_. Armin smiled, not forced or unwanted this time, just a small genuine act of amity.

“What’s so wrong about wanting to spend some time with an old suburbanite of mine?”

Another scoff, though lighter this time. “We were never suburbanites, neither were we friends.”

Armin frowned, feeling that slight sting from her words. “Don’t be so harsh now, Annie.” He hopped down from the desk, turning his back to her—a blatant sign of showing his trust, because as they say, _never turn your back on an enemy_ … but, she was no longer his enemy—He grabbed the first book off the stack, the parchment was stained and worn, crinkled at the corners, the binding coming undone, and already crumbling in his hands.

Armin sensed her eye’s heavy on his back, it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“At most,” he murmured, now turning to her, holding the book he’d chosen carefully in his hands. “I did have respect for you, and I know you did, for me as well.”

Annie gave no answer. Armin dropped his gaze to his feet, feeling sheepish. “And I… still do, by the way.”

Annie shifted on the cot; uncomfortable at his flattery, most likely. She was never good at receiving compliments from others. He peered at her through his spectacles, she was hunched forward, attention drawn to the floorboards, hands resting on her lap. Her pale fringes covered her eyes, hiding from him an emotion she probably did not want to be seen. Maybe Armin had struck something within her?

“Did somebody put you up to this?” She asked briskly, “Was it the commander?” She didn’t even give him time to answer; Annie sighed tiredly, tucking strands of blonde behind her ear, “I thought she said I wouldn’t be under surveillance, was that just another fib?”

Armin shook his head, “You’ve got it all wrong!” He took a step into her personal space, crossing that boundary where the shadows grew darker in the corners of the room. “I’m here, because _I want_ to be, believe me.” Another step, Annie watched him, warily.  “ _I’m not_ lying to you, I wouldn’t be at this point.”

It was the truth. Nobody had demanded he visit her dungeon when she first awakened, and nobody had persuaded him to visit her secluded home. There was also the fact being of, Who would? In all honesty, it was Annie Leonhardt— _her_ —an ex-terrorist of humanity within the walls, with a kill-count of more than two-hundred citizens and soldiers. Who would want to visit _her?_

Why, Armin Arlert of course! He was only here as a friend, and a friend he would stay. Armin hoped he appeared as sincere as he sounded; the tension in Annie’s shoulders were relieved somewhat, but her eyes were still skeptical. “… And those?” She pointed to the neatly stacked books behind him, Armin smiled daintily. “They’re for you.”

The pale blue of her eyes widened for a fraction of second. “All of them?” She mumbled. He nodded, trying to swallow down the rushing glee of finally getting Annie to communicate with him.

“Yes—um, do you mind if I…?” Armin nodded to the empty space beside her, the cot was rather small, but enough to fit three people sitting. Annie slid to the end of the bed, giving him more than enough space. He sat down, the old book still in his hands, Armin ran his thumb gingerly down the crooked spine of thick pages, now having been invited into Annie’s space, he didn’t really know what else to say. But he did not want to sit in nerve racking silence again.

Armin cleared his throat, twisting his body to grab her attention. “… You see, these books are _extremely_ rare.”

“Is that so?” Annie raised a blonde brow. She was giving him the go ahead, Armin grinned. “Yes! In fact, after we had cleared the titans from Wall Maria, we were able to venture—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve already told me that.” She waved impatiently.

“Ah! But you didn’t know this!” Armin focused on the book in his hands. A glorious book it was, he’s read it about a good fifteen times or so. Though the covering had ripped long ago, all the pages were still there, coming apart, but holding together various mythical worlds written, and translated in English, each sentence read so exotically, his mind ran wild with vivid imagery each time his eyes swept across the pages.

The word for that extrinsic, non-conforming way of telling a story, was called poetry, and Armin loved it more then he loved the adventurous ‘ _outside world’_ books his parents had left with him.

“Eren, Jean and I—we had stumbled across a hidden cellar while we patrolled the outside of Wall Maria for the second time.”

“And?”

Armin raised his head, looking nowhere in particular; too lost in a memory playing behind his cerulean eyes. The smell of salt, the taste of the ocean, the age-old smell of leather, and the feel of rough parchment. A sense override.

He breathed, still at awe of what he had witnessed long ago. “It was unlike _anything_ I’ve ever seen, an underground library!” he bounced his knee like an excited child, turning to her with vast admiration of their discoveries, Annie was dumbfounded. “I’ve found scriptures from philosophers who talked of unusual forms of government, I’ve found _playwright’_ s written in various language’s I couldn’t even understand!”

The unbridled excitement poured off him in waves, too no effect on Annie, of course, but she was definitely more interested than she had been prior. The bed creaked as she leaned towards him, ever so slightly.

“So, you’ve basically found your own sweets shop.” She quipped.

Armin chuckled, drumming his fingers on the parchment. “You could say that, it was a miracle these books still existed… Or have been existing all this time.” His voice dropped to a hush.

_“…All this time.”_ It did appall him that the former monarchy would choose to ever banish such wonderful, and fleeting telltales, books filled with pages of prose and poetry, beautiful theatrics’ written in the blackest ink. It angered him even, how dare they had taken away pieces of literature that held no harm. Literature that could have been taught to children who dreamed of the faraway lands, children like he and Eren once been.

But then he remembered the philosophers, their point of views, their theories and collective categories of all things human, and he knew. The pursuit of wisdom would have been the downfall of the old king. How funny that would have been, had it happened, but fate works in many different ways.

“Have you gone back there?”

Armin was snapped from his reverie, Annie peered at him more intensely than before. Rapt in his daydreaming. He blinked twice, “Uh—um, no. I’ve been quite busy, and the commander already ran-sacked the whole area. Though most of the books fell apart in her hands the moment she touched them.”

 “She has that effect.”

Armin snickered, delighted Annie was partaking in jests. The pamphlet in his lap urged him to peel apart it’s pages and soak up the long ballads of foreign hero’s like Achilles, and Odysseus; and ride along with their victorious battles until their untimely deaths.

But the young woman across from him called for his attention more. “How have you been?” He asked.

 “Me?” Annie shrugged, carelessly. Typical of her. “I’m alright, besides the fact that I’ll be dead within a year.”

_Ah yes_ , Armin sighed, He’d forgotten all about the real reason he’d wanted to befriend her in the first place. What an ugly eye-opener. “Not all hope is lost,” He focused on her, baring the same expression he had when he’d fooled her into following along with his plan four years ago. “There can still be a chance.”

She scoffed again, bringing her bare feet up onto the bed to sit pretzel like, the mattress creaked under her weight. Annie could see right through his lies. “How? And _please_ don’t say by praying.”

“I can’t reveal to you _much_ …” Armin chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, weighing in his odds. But he decided to tell her—as Eren would say— _for the fucking hell of it_. And because she _would_ be dead within a year, regardless.

“The expedition to cross the sea under Marley territory has been renounced, for now.” 

Annie shook her head, her shoulders visibly trembling from hidden laugher. As evident in her voice. “How does that make my situation any better than before?”

The candle light flickered momentarily, shadows danced, catching them both off guard. Armin placed his beloved poetry between them, as if creating a barrier. He wished the cabin weren’t so quiet without their voices, he wished he could reveal much more to her. The secrets hidden beneath more secrets. His mind echoed, _thirty-seven war ships sent to destroy us, but only one man allowed to survive through the havoc, to return to the Mainland. One man, with one dying goal._ Armin felt slightly disgusted with himself.

He wished he had her willpower to not fear imminent death as well.

“I’m forbidden from revealing any more of the Survey Corp plans.” Armin focused his gaze elsewhere. The burning candle caught his line of sight. “… However, I will say this, we now have eyes and ears, on _both_ sides.” _For the time being,_ he thought.

Knowing Annie, Armin figured she was going to catch on rather quickly. But she did not, much to his shock. There was slight movement on the bed as she shifted to a more comfortable position. Eyeing him like a hawk, but looking even more curious.

“I’m betting _that_ gamble was your own.” She deadpanned. Armin huffed a laugh, turning to her now. “Nope, though I appreciate the thought…  _Actually_ , it was from a person you’ve been affiliated with in the Military Police.”

Right than, and there, was when Armin knew he should’ve clamped his jaw shut, and bolt it with iron. Right than, and there was when he should have jumped from his seat, and hurl himself out the front of door like the damned loud mouth rubbish he was.

He cursed under his breath, turning away from her. Annie was cozy, and warm on her side of the bed. She looked as content as a cat, and she was sly like one too.

“You sure love to reveal a lot, for a soldier who’s forbidden from doing so.” He could hear that cheeky smirk in her tone. _Damn it all to hell_. Well, at the very least, she was under no circumstances to leave the underground. Nor did she have any friends, _nor_ was she very good at making them. Besides he barely gave away much; she still did not know who their infiltrator was. Though, neither did a majority of the Survey Corp... Armin never liked to keep such drastic secrets from his friends, but if it was for the sake of protecting them, he would do anything, and everything he could. 

“So as long as you keep it to yourself, okay!”

“Sure thing, Arlert.” There was an eyeroll somewhere between those three words, he just knew it.

Suddenly it didn’t seem to Armin that he was intruding in on Annie's personal space anymore—in fact, he felt… oddly, comfortable. There was a welcoming warmth dawning within his gut, overtaking the lingering doubt that had planted itself there the moment he knocked on her front door. No. The moment he even _stepped_ foot into the underground.

With Annie, it was peculiar, because it was like that tingle of visiting an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. Annie was not an old friend, and yet, he felt at ease with her. _Strange, so very strange._ Armin mused. But very delightful. He had to remember that Annie was still just a girl _, a cursed human_ _with human emotions_ like any other, perhaps that was why.

“Can I ask one thing?” Annie perked from her spot at the foot of the bed. Armin nodded, mulling over the changes that were rapidly occurring.

“It is possible this rat of yours”—Armin cringed-“can deliver a message?”

“What kind of message?”

“… a message to my father.”

Armin froze. _Of course. He would still be on her mind_. Family was family, regardless of the past. He could... pretend to deliver her letter to her father or... no. _That's too cruel._ He supposed writing a letter would be harmless, because he could go revise it for anything suspicious before sending it in. But something as simple as a message to a family member wouldn’t fly by with the Commander, or the rest of the Survey Corp, for that matter. There were more important things happening across the sea, destructive, bloody things. Like the finale of war.

Armin did feel sympathy for Annie, being separated from her only living blood. Then being forced to die where no one could see her. He wondered how it was that her resolve hadn’t crumbled to pieces yet. Armin picked up the pamphlet that lay between them, then offered it to her, tentatively, as not to set off any alarms in her head.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.” He murmured, she eyed the stained pages curiously, then carefully took it from his grasp.

“ _So I figured_.” She drawled, like he had the intention to brush off the idea of sending her father anything to claim she was still alive. Armin was not the cruel one here.

“You don’t understand,” he exasperated, “It’s not possible because our informant is not located within the Marley territory, yet.”

Yet another piece of information that he should have never revealed, but did. _To hell with the rules, dammit._ Though, Armin knew he was bluffing, even in his own head.

Annie traced the title of the parchment with her forefinger, each word curving delicately. “Then where are they?” It sounded like a question more to herself than him. He said nothing, and revealed nothing more.

“I’ll just assume until otherwise than.” Annie shrugged, then pursed her lips in an uncaring manner. _Whatever, who cares, not me._ Was the vibe she was giving off. Armin knew better than to trust that face.

“Oh.” She looked up, meeting his eyes, the arctic ocean clashing with the pacific yet again. Armin shivered. “And I hope your rat knows their way back home.”

Armin smiled, empty. "I hope so too." 

 

* * *

 

 

Elsewhere in Castle Yggdrasil; Eren Jaeger hid behind a dark corridor, just right outside the royal pantry doors, which he noticed, happened to be _more_ heavily guarded than before. _Goddamn it Historia!_

He cursed quietly, peering from behind the corner, only one of the stationary guards appeared to be on the verge of dozing off, but the rest were upholding their duty, as ever. _Damn it all to hell!_ It was only half past noon, and he’d just woken up from a fatigue induced nap after the Commander had burned him out with her excessive morning drill exercises.

He wondered why she even bothered honing his abilities anymore, it’s not as if they were in constant peril now, nor had the Marley made any recent overseas threats; as they had been completely besieged by the ongoing turf war with another enemy dubbed the Middle East Union, he was informed by Armin of this. The last Eren ever fought, was when he had kicked a fifty thousand long ton ship across the ocean, and stomped the rest to pieces, with Armin by his side. Eren couldn't even call that fight, in fact, he even felt somewhat sorry for the soldiers who failed to escape in time. 

Hopefully, the war _would be_ ending soon, so said Armin. So, maybe Commander Hange was just taking precaution. Still, he could do without her poking, and prodding at his back with a forty-yard stick, and yanking at his pointed ears—significantly different from the other titans. _Not_ that they’d encounter any more in the last four years.

No more prisoners of the Marley, meant no more subjects to the cursed serum; meaning they’d seen the last of the titans, for now, at the very least.

Eren sighed, a puff of balmy air from his nostrils; those guards were on a full dawn to dark watch, it’d be useless to wait them out, he gritted his teeth— _looked like it’ll have to be another four bronze, and two silver coins at the tavern tonight_.

 Eren pushed himself off the wall, continuing down the opposite path of the pantry, the sun chose to be an asshole than, and blind his periphery in stark afternoon light, the rays poured through the tall windows of the hall, amplified by the crystal-glass. The windows sparkled like they were made up of billions of diamonds; it was a breath-taking sight to behold, and Eren detested it. He grumbled, irritably putting a hand up to shield his eyes.

_Too damn bright. Too invasive, too fucking cheery._ He needed a drink, he was becoming crankier than Captain Levi on Monday mornings before he had his first sip of tea.

Eren turned a corner, abruptly colliding with another body, though the person didn’t budge while _he_ ended up stumbling backwards, almost falling on his ass. “Goddamn it, watch where your—Oh!… _Mikasa.”_

He swallowed thickly  her eyes, like the darkest coals he’d ever seen, pierced right through him. It was one of the many reasons he had avoided her for nearly three weeks. Though he noticed the scarf was wrapped around her neck once more, it did give him some sort of relief.

“Eren.” She greeted, clip and curt as her pixie-cut hair, then she bowed her head, walked passed him like he was just another random face in the Survey Corp, not someone who was special, who was family.

An irrational Eren would have stopped her, he would have turned around, grabbed her by the wrist, and shout at her every emotion that raced through his mind like the vapid wiring shooting out of a 3DMG; he would have cried like the sniveling little boy he’d been and tell her he had wanted to make the right choice, he wanted to be _angry_ with her for being _angry_ with him.

But that Eren had long since grew silent; and he had long since grew out of tantrums. So he let her go, feeling pathetic with himself. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to apologize for being absent, he was just that pitiful.

Eren swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat; dragging his sorry-self down the blinding hallways. One drink would not be enough for tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

The people of Mitras loved to sing songs of their past kings; though they were not songs of gratitude, these songs were about their wretchedness, their thievery, and their wickedness of sealing away the truth.

They sang because they could do nothing else with their old rage; they could not go march rampant on the streets, not while they had a young, beautiful Queen bestowed to them. No, they _adored_ the Queen, they respected her; while the kings had wronged them, she had led them back on the paths of righteousness.

There were songs of the young Historia Reiss as well; people told tales of her battle with her monstrous father who had wanted to bring havoc on them all; they preached lullabies of her honorable reign all through the night. Eren was sure Historia was sick to her stomach of having to constantly hear the same tiresome melodies repeatedly, day after day. He, for damn sure, would be.

The ale he sipped at was frothy and fresh on his tongue, he arrived at the local tavern in minutes after dusk. Eren chose to sit at a table furthest from everyone else, secluded in the corner, facing the doors, so he could watch anyone come in or out. He’d folded his Survey Corp uniform, resting it behind his chair, with his body free of leather straps and metal, and his wild hair tied in a loose knot, he could finally relax.

 Eren found it amazing how alcohol could bring the oddest groups together. Three wall worshipers had paraded in hours earlier, loudly protesting the reconstructing of Wall Maria—“ _It’s blasphemy_!”—One of them, a stout chubby man, had shouted, another read from a scripture from their own written testament. The other sang a hymn of the three goddesses; the three walls, that were not meant to be touched, or ruined by _human hands,_ or whatever bullshit they spouted.

_And it was bullshit_ ; everyone knew the truth, so _why_ did they continue to trump people into their false beliefs? It irritated Eren to no end. Luckily, after only a few shots of clear moonshine; their preaching turned to something more _jovial._

Soon one of them had forsaken his hymns for loudly proclaiming raunchy stories of his younger days, while the one who had argued about the walls cackled, slapping his palms on the table like he’d heard the best jest of his lifetime. The stout chubby man wobbled drunkenly by his brethren’s side, cheeks flushed, and so obviously on the verge of passing out; the other two paid him no mind, blathering on about nonsense, but it was far more tolerable nonsense than what they had been spouting before.

Eren snorted into his mug; the devoted would never change, not even when change occurred right in front of their eyes, not even when their entire belief crumbled like the walls before them; faith was an invisible veil that blinded sight and rationality; a near impenetrable fortress of protection against the imminent fear of death. The end cycle of all things living.

Because eventually, all things had to die. Eren was not ignorant; he understood the science of it all, the world gave, and it also took away; like an ongoing chain of life then death that just grew longer, and longer. Humans were not an exempted from this chain; though many chose to become followers of what they sought as a greater spiritual power. This devout faith was what kept them _‘safe’_ from the lingering paranoia that came from the awareness of _existing._

He had thought about it too—his existence in this world, and the absence of it. Would anything change with him gone? Will things continue as they always had? What would no longer existing be like— _would it be nothing_? Would he be floating in a dark void forever? That was a question only the dead could answer, and Eren would never know until his time was up.

One thing was for certain though; there was _nothing_ in this world that held greater power than a human being, there no more cruelty extruded from _anything_ more than a human either—there were no divine goddesses who he prayed too, there was not an inkling of spiritual faith in his body. Eren was like a sponge; he had already soaked up all that he could as a boy; and this world had squeezed the life out of him; quite literally. It took things away from him, but gave him purpose too.

He could almost say that he was ready to die; it might as well happen while he was debating life and death itself, right? He wasn’t _sure_ if he feared death, as he could’ve died from a number of things that happened in the past; if not for his friends risking themselves for him constantly.

Eren coughed, downing the last of his ale, his tongue darted out to lick the stale taste from his lips. Perhaps he was thinking too far into it; _perhaps_ he needed another drink, a stronger one this time. _Yeah_ , he needed to forget, that’s what. He was ready to order another round; not really taking in the commotion that was happening all around him, the chattering of drunk men, giggling of women, the loud clinking of glass, and forks scrapping on plates. It was all a distant buzz in his ears. His cheeks felt a little warmer than before.

“E-excuse me, M’am?” Eren hiccupped, eye’s drawing up to meet the bare back of a tavern woman, the backline of her blouse hung a little _too_ low, revealing much of her tanned shoulders; she stood faced away from the end of his table, politely greeting the new guests. Two wealthy merchants they looked to be, they ogled her like she was a piece of candy

Eren cleared his throat, and tried again, “ _M’am_ , excuse me?”

She glanced over her shoulder momentarily, turning back to the customers, before immediately swiveling around to face him again, olive green eyes blown wide in recognition. It took Eren a whole minute to comb through the fog that was his mind, to realize who was standing before him in that scanty tavern dress, holding a pitcher of ale.

He leaned back further into his seat, thick brows furrowing in bewilderment as he took her in, _“Hitch?!”_

_“You?”_ Her mouth formed a surprised _O_ , like she, never in a million years, would expect to see someone _like him_ in a high-end bar _like this_ , drinking themselves into a stupor. He was sure she noticed the large empty mug on the center of his table by now.

It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her; her hair was _far_ too long, dusty waves cascading down her bare shoulders, she wore a bronze clip that held her heavy locks in place, the top ruffles of her tavern dress hung low on her neckline, exposing a hint of cleavage. Eren’s alcohol addled mind unfortunately noticed this, his face flushed, and he looked away to compose himself, she was _quite_ the sight, but it was disrespectful of him to stare so blatantly. Plus, he _knew_ her.

HItch tilted her head curiously, Eren could see she was at loss of what to say. Her cheeks pinkened, whether it be from embarrassment or anger at him for discovering her, he didn’t know.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “What—“

_“Oi! Tavern wench! Gimme another shot ya’hear?!”_ Slurred a man from the back; completely interrupting her. Hitch closed her eyes, sucked in her teeth, clearly frustrated. Her fists trembled, and she looked about ready to punch someone, hopefully it wouldn’t be him.

_“One moment!”_ Hitch replied over her shoulder in a sickly-sweet voice. She turned back to Eren, who looked at her questionably, one brow raised.

 “One moment.” She huffed, then turned on her heel, marching pass the other attendees, and customers, right up to the man who hollered at her. Hitch leaned over him, a coy smile painted on her lips, and Eren was sure she going to strike the man, but, instead, she just refilled his mug.

Maybe her new job was too precious to lose— _suddenly_ Hitch’s foot slipped, she yelled a _“Whoopsie!”—_ Eren took that train of thought back. Hitch acted as if she had fell, kicking the table stand the man sat at, and the pitcher went flying from her hands, clattering onto his lap, ale splashed onto the man’s face. He sputtered, jumping from his seat in a fit of rage.

_“Ya fuckin’ klutz! Wha’ is wrong with ya?!”_

 Eren sprung from his seat too, sensing animosity from the man, he may have not had seen her in some years, and may be _somewhat_ drunk, but she was still considered a friend, and he’ll be damned if he lets some other drunken fool lash out at her. Although, Hitch proved she didn’t need any white knight to sweep her off her feet. Rather, she swept the feet of the man who leered at her, and she did it so discreetly, it looked as if he had tripped over himself. The customers around them all cackled, and even the burly bartender snickered loudly.

“Are you okay, sir?” Hitch asked in that still sickly-sweet voice, she made a show of kneeling down to heft the drunkard up by his shoulder, he grumbled, and shoved her back. Hitch staggered, and fell on her bum. Though Eren knew, she was still so obviously faking it.

_“Ow!”_ She cried, “Ow, _oh Mister!_ I was only trying to help!”

“Hey!” The burly bartender, raced from the bar, rolling up his sleeves. “No assaulting the tavern ladies!” He roughly grabbed the drunkard by the back of his shirt, and tossed him out the front doors like he was a sack of potatoes. The whole thing was so horribly cartoonish.

Eren blinked owlishly as the man walked passed him—in his haze, he swore he saw cropped blond hair, and small golden eyes—but another two seconds went by, and all he saw was another unknown man, brown hair, and a goatee. Not the other he had thought of, not him. That ‘ _soldier_ ’ was long gone.

As the bartender helped Hitch to her feet, she met Eren’s wide green gaze from across the tavern; and she had the nerve to smirk cheekily his way. Eren snorted, he couldn’t help but smile back.

 

* * *

 

 

The flames of the candle danced all through the night; having only gone out once the entire time Armin was there. He could only assume it was pass dusk time, of course, since there no view of the sky above. He _had_ arrived around a quarter to noon; but Armin couldn’t have predicted he’d be staying for _this_ long.

He glanced discreetly to Annie, who rested her back against the window at the side of her bed, a tattered beige book on her out-stretched legs. Her body language seemed peaceful, but then Armin saw her face, the twist of her lips as she grimaced, and the wrinkle on her brow line, she was too deep in a thought, Armin almost did not want to disturb her, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Is there something wrong?” He partially faced her, he didn’t want to be rude and place his filthy boots on her bed.

“I don’t understand this.” Annie murmured, clearly so engrossed in the book she was reading, Armin smiled softly, offering his hand, “Maybe I can help, mind if I have a look?” She stared pointedly at him—two pinpricks of ice right settled right on his face. Armin swallowed nervously, his hand lowering, but then she dropped the book in his upturned palm.

“Fine.”

The first thing Armin’s sight set on was the intricate name of the chapter, _“… The Allegory of the cave?”_ He repeated the voice in his head as he scanned the title, and the colorful content that lay beneath it; then it suddenly clicked to Armin as his eyes caught a familiar word. “Ah! This is one of _Plato’s!”_ He exclaimed, then turned to Annie, “He’s a philosopher from—“  though the Annie was hardly moved by his enthusiasm, and was quick tell him so.

“ _I don’t care_ about who wrote it, I’m just _trying_ to make sense of it.”  She was as callous as ever, Armin blinked, albeit sheepishly. “Right, right,” he nodded, “Well, first thing is first, do you know what an allegory is?”

Annie looked down at her folded hands, then to him, then down again, not exactly a fidgety gesture, but on the verge of it. “Do you?”

“Yes, I’ve learned of it recently actually.”

Annie pursed her lips, then sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit. “I know…  _of them.”_

That was a lie. But Armin knew better than to call Annie Leonhardt out on her fibs by now. Regardless, he was a man of chivalry; and he truly did want to teach Annie all he knew about the fascinating world of literature.

“An allegory is…” He searched his mind for a simple definition she could comprehend. “… Is _like_ a piece of art, or literature, where people, things or events have a hidden meaning.”

Annie stared at him, befuddled. Armin explained in further detail. “Okay, to put it simply, it’s a message that the authors try to convey through their writing.”

“I see.” She nodded, then brought her chilly eyes to rest on the book in his hands. “But what about that story, I didn’t feel any powerful message from that nonsense.”

Armin sighed, “It isn’t nonsense, you just don’t understand.”

“Then make me _understand_.” Armin met her eye’s, that came out more as a gruff command than a desire to learn. But he seldom got the time to ever teach _anything_ pertaining to literature, as his peers weren’t the most _enlightened_ individuals.  He took her challenge, and with a gleeful spark in his ocean blue irises. Armin got to his feet, walking over to the writing desk, and standing with his back toward it.

He shut the book with one hand, he had long since read Plato’s _Allegory of the cave_ anyway.

“You see this,” He started, and Annie huddled over to sit at the edge of her bed, rapt at his attention, “is an allegory about the man’s desire to be educated, it dictates that a man is only as educated as his surroundings.”

“Okay but,” she shrugged, “The main character was a prisoner, why would they release a prisoner?”

Armin waved the book around like he was swatting a fly, “No, no, no! Annie, you’ve got it all wrong! It’s not about the prisoner, it’s about their _imagination_ , and their growth to perceive what is real, and what is not.”

“He thought the shadows casted by the fire were real people.” Annie blandly stated, as if making a fact. Armin nodded, “ _Yes,_ he did,” Armin turned away for a second to switch the book in his hand with the candle, he held the burner carefully, the flame illuminated his chin, and nose, and blinded his spectacles in a bright yellow glow. “but you see,” Armin continued, “his knowledge of the world expanded, the more he explored the environment around him.”

“I don’t get it.”

Armin lowered the candle, a little miffed, had she been listening at all? “ _What?_   What don’t you get?”      

“Why they didn’t believe him, the other prisoners.”

_Ah._ “Well, that,” He shook his finger at her, “Is why you need to understand the meaning of allegory because you missed the point that was made.”

Annie scoffed, another roll of her sapphire eyes, she really was just another girl. “But they could _see_ him, he stood right in front of them, and they wouldn’t believe anything he said about seeing the sun, and trees, all that.”

“Yes, but you forget they perceived him as a shadow,” Armin placed the candle holder back down on the table, putting his hand directly behind the little flame, the large shadow he casted fell over Annie, “because shadows are all they know of _their_ world, their only drive is their own imagination,” Armin wiggled his fingers, watching his shadow copycat do the same over Annie’s face. “Do you see where I’m getting at?” He pulled his hand back.

Annie blew out air, shrugging once more. “Well, I’m _getting there_.”

Armin grinned, a little too creepily for a nineteen-year-old, too much teeth showing, his grin was almost akin to a titan’s. Annie veered back from the look on his face.

_“Um…”_

“Ah! Sorry!” He coughed, though still smiling, “I’m just _so glad_ to be discussing this with someone, Eren thinks reading is boring, and Mikasa only likes fairy tales. Everyone has too little time or finds literature to be useless.” He shook his head, “They don’t know one of the most powerful weapons is the tongue. They say it's like a sharp knife, it can kill without drawing blood.”

Armin chuckled, pointing at her. “By the way, _that_ is a metaphor, which I’ll teach you about next time, perhaps, if you’re interested.”

Annie mouth grew slack in an expression of shock. “You’re… coming back  _here?_ ”

“Yes?” Armin blinked. “Unless, you don’t want me too… which is completely fine by the way I understand if—“

“I do.” Annie got up from the bed, the old floors creaked under her socked feet. “It’s always good to learn a few things.”

Armin figured this was where he would bid his goodbyes, and a make a promise of returning, but she had a little more on her mind. “Can I ask you something?” She padded over to him, and even four years later, Armin was still perplexed at how such great strength could be held within a tiny body like hers. “It’s not about what you told me before, it’s… more personal.”

“Well than, ask away.”

“Do you think of me as a good person?”

Armin froze; stunted by the cold finger tips of their shared past prodding at his neck. Why did she bring that up? Why did that have to be her last question for the day? Was she testing him, like she had in Stohess? He swallowed visibly, but this _was not_ Stohess, and he had grown so much since then, his life was not only about taking gambles anymore. _And Annie,_ Annie was not his enemy. He decided to answer as truthfully as he could.

“I think,” he swallowed again, “I think that good, is not something _you are_ , it’s something _you do_.”

Annie smiled than, though it was a barely there, kind of smile, a _witness-it-once-before-it’s-gone_ kind smile. Armin felt his stomach do a swoop, whether it be from seeing the former female titan smile genuinely for _the first time_ , or pure fear, from the seeing the former female titan smiling, and it being so similar to the one he saw during the 57th expedition.

“I guess, I’m not a good person after all.”

Armin huffed, “That’s quite alright, I’m not an entirely good person either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Eren and Hitch have a heart to heart, Armin teaches Annie about metaphors, Levi doesn't know what to do about Hange, Eren EVENTUALLY meets Annie, and things gets AWKWARD for everybody. Stay tuned!


	4. A Life with Some Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE. So it's been a year and one month since I updated this story. Actually I haven't updated since last April, funny that I'd eventually update, this April. ha. Anyway, A LOT has happened in the Attack on Titan manga since then, and I've decided that this story was going to be, my version of last years chapters, as well this years. Because, omg, has a lot happened. And as much Canon-divergence this story is going to get, I also want to keep it IN canonverse. I'd like to thank the readers who have been patient with me, and the ones who had reviewed my story thus far, and left kudos! I hope to update this one soon as well! I'm dying for some timeskip ereannie interaction!

 

The ruckus of the old tavern dwindled down to murmurs, whispers, and the occasional creaking of floorboards as the bar ladies went about their duty, wiping the tables of previous customers. Eren took solace in the hushed ambiance. Even enjoyed the uneven strum of strings from the harp an elderly woman played three tables across from his.

“So, you work here now?” He studied this _‘older and elegant’_ Hitch Dreyse, Eren leaned against his chair, one hand gripped the handle of his refilled mug, and the other tapped a nervous rhythm on the table. Hitch occupied the seat adjacent to him, tucking curls of dust colored hair behind her ear.

“The military police aren’t what they used to be.” She shrugged.

Eren had to snort at that. “You mean crooks who smuggled illegal firearms for money?”

“They might have done some illicit stuff, but they paid us good.”

He snorted again. Shook his head, let his eyes wander a bit further down her fine neck; then realized what his alcoholic addled brain wanted to gander at. He scoffed, instead turned his focus to the old woman that strummed the soft tune.

Hitch obviously noticed, it was in her devious nature to read the body language of men. She smiled, rested her chin in one hand, stripped down the hope of humanity with her own eyes, insuring _he knew_ she noticed.

“Now with _these_ ,” She waved her free hand in a circle, “Equal pay laws in the military, I could barely make enough to afford new clothes.”

“You made enough for food and shelter, that should’ve sustained you.”  

She sniffed, “Well, I’m a girl with _class_ , I could hope for a little more.”  

Eren brought the mug to his lips, sipping at his ale to keep from making an absurd comment about class _,_ and her rear. “Mm-Hm.”

Then it was quiet, only the soothing pluck of taut strings drifted into his ears. The chair Hitch sat in whined as she leaned her back to it, Eren listened to the sigh that left her lips, and the exhausted words that followed. "It wasn’t just _, the payment."_ She pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbed the skin there.

"I had stuff I wanted to leave behind, baggage, y'know?"

Eren was always envious of those people. The kind of people who could freely drop the stones that sat upon their shoulders, and run from it all. From the weight of shielding humanity from disaster, from themselves, to finally feel liberated of the bloodshed, and the losses. He saw it in her. That freedom; Eren tilted his head, tendrils of brown locks fell over his eyes, but, he also saw a deep grievance etched into the corners of her downturned lips.

"I wanted to start new," She shrugged, "After all that happened, I couldn’t keep working there, everyone I knew, they..." Hitch trailed off into a heavy sigh. "They moved on."

"Or died."  Eren quipped, too drunk to form words of condolences. Hitch met his murky green eyes with an appalled look, but it died all too soon to be replaced by one of irritableness.

“Yes.” She clucked her tongue, “ _Anyways,_ enough about that, how about you?”

“Me?”

“Uh-huh,” Hitch rested her chin at the tops of her fingers, “Tell me, what is Eren Jaeger, _meister of the titans_ , doing in a dingy Inn like this?”

Eren gave her a peculiar look, “ _Meister_ of the titans _?”_

“Well, yeah, that’s what I’ve heard the townspeople call you, at least.”

He shrugged, “I just needed to get some air, ended up walking halfway across Mitras until I reached the gates of Sina, and then I found myself... here."

Hitch snorted, and the sound somehow offended Eren. “Nice try, _Jaeger_ .” She drawled, “But only drunks, married couples, and folk who are trying to run away from something end up here,” She pointed an accusing finger him, “ _and_ I don’t see a fine lady on your arm, so...?”

Eren stared at her, heavy lidded, a smidgen of shame prodded the pits of his stomach. _“M’not running from anything.”_

Hitch grinned, Cheshire-like, her olive eyes seemed to smile too, “Then you were looking to get shit-faced, huh?”

“Ugh, do you have to put it that way?” He grumbled. “What’s so wrong about me drinking anyway?”

“Nothing,” Hitch pursed her lips as she looked him up and down, “It’s just… a _bit_ weird.”

Eren rolled his eyes, negligent at her poking into his personal affairs.

“You’re like the poster boy of the Survey Corp,” she continued, “wouldn’t expect _you_ to even be able to hold down your drink.”

Eren scoffed, fixed her with a challenging gaze, and then in one swoop, knocked back the rest of his ale, gulping down the rest of the alcohol in two swigs. He slammed the mug back onto table, wiping the excess foam from his lips. He covered his mouth, belching quietly. “You were saying?”

Hitch made a sound of approval. “Not bad, Jaeger.” She scooted her seat closer to the titan shifter, Eren eyed her warily.

“… besides _that_ ,” HItch glanced behind her, around the tavern, then brought her attention to him. Her voice an octave lower as she spoke again. “Shouldn’t you be over _there_ , now?”

Eren perked, a strange sensation coiled in his gut. _Worry_. “Why, did something happen?”

“Not that I know of,” Hitch twiddled her thumbs beneath the table. “Just the things that I shouldn’t know.”

Icy fingers danced along his spine, forced him back into cold hard reality, the hairs of his arms stood up from the abrupt chill, Eren lowered his head, _“Hitch…”_

“And I don’t know much, before you tell me anything!” She added in a hasty whisper. “Just rumors.”

“ _What_ rumors?”

Hitch was reluctant to say, she brushed away the fringes that fell over her eyes, wrung her hands together nervously. It was than the old harp lady began to sing. A soft hum, then a tired melodious voice accompanied by the light _‘ting’_ rhythm of her harp. The noise of the tavern grew ever silent as she sang.

_‘O’ Queen of Hope,_

_Lead us, to gold and riches be_

_As thou hast a pure heart … ‘_

Hitch sighed, “About, you know.” Her eyes met distressing emeralds as she faced Eren. He could no longer find solace in the lightheaded buzz of the alcohol, why was it always _her_ that would do this him. Why couldn’t he just escape? Eren clutched the edge of the table, he needed an anchor.

“You shouldn’t know _anything_ , least of all, rumors about that.” He hissed.

Hitch’s face went sour, “Hey—hey, don’t get prissy with me. I didn’t even start them, I just heard, okay?”

“From who?”

_‘O, hope! Shine upon us,_

_Thy blinding light_

_Purest thy could see … ‘_

“Not who,” Hitch shook her head, “ _Where._ There’s eyes and ears all over Mitras, y’know, these people thrive off gossip like it’s their life source.”

“Hitch, rumors like that spreading throughout the town,” He drew closer to her, caution written in his body language. _“Could be dangerous for us.”_

 _Especially for Annie._ The persistent voice in his mind added.

“I know that!” Hitch fussed, “Don’t worry about it, nobody really believes the rumors anyway.”

_‘Open mine eyes,_

_Behold wondrous_

_Things of thy law … ‘_

Eren slumped into his chair, enlaced his fingers behind his head, exhaling loudly, he dropped his hands. _Who could be starting the rumors?_ An urgent alarm gone off in his brain that would not dissipate unless he found out who could be the culprit jeopardizing the Survey Corps’ secrecy of Annie Leonhardt. The fact that only his fellow _Survey Corp members_ came to mind, made him sink further into the chair. _It could be anyone of them._ He swallowed.

Eren remembered Annie’s face that time he’d gone into the cell, the pale face of a lost, worn, girl. A small frightened girl. Not the steely expression of the girl who fought him with blood, and teeth and skin. Then he recalled the face of Mikasa, how _conflicted_ she appeared as she clutched that faded red scarf in her hand. She pitied him. He couldn't stand it.

His gut wretched, a twisting, burning sensation of his insides. Eren winced _. Alcohol, it’s the alcohol._

“You believe it, don’t you?” He turned to Hitch who sat wistfully, as she watched the old lady sing, the older woman’s praising chorus nearly coming to an end.  

Hitch sighed. “I don’t know, I don’t know what to believe but… if there is a chance that someone, _anyone_ , who I had once worked with in the past, is still alive, I would want to know.”

The bar ladies began to clap as the old woman reached the finale of her song, the bartender wiped mugs behind his counter. Eren felt the world was trying to punish him by making him watch those he had hurt himself, fall apart.

He gazed into his empty mug, feeling just about the same.

_‘O’ Queen of hope,_

_Purest thy could see… ‘_

* * *

 

Armin shifted uncomfortably in his seat; they’ve been sitting in the meeting hall for more than two hours by now. _They_ consisting of himself, Commander Hange, Captain Levi, and Commander Brzenska of the Garrison. Queen Historia Reiss, and Commander-in-Chief Zackley, also appointed as the Queen’s counsel, were seated on elevated benches facing them all. Hange’s newly appointed assistants sat two rows back from Armin, Levi and she; Ink quills and paper at hand, jotting down notes for the future. Jean Kirstein was one of the handful of assistants. He had barely acknowledged Armin’s weak wave of a greeting when they’d all arrived.

The reason for this disquieted meeting was of crucial interest. It was held to discuss the status of the current war in the mainland. Eldia was at its climax of its ongoing war with a faction called the Mid-East Union. But how was it that _they- the wretched bad blood-_  knew of this war?

The battleships that’d been sent by the Marley to Paradi island held many, if not only, Marley-branded-Eldians. All, _if not most_ , surrendered, and provided the officials snippets of information, the happenings, the deaths, and the stir of war in the mainland. But it wasn't out of their hatred of servitude to the Marley that they had given up so willingly.

Though they came with advanced machinery. Rapid firing guns, explosives that shook the earth, weapons of iron, metal, gunpowder, and fire, all put together in one. It was fascinating, yet so _menacing_ had Armin not already known those machines existed prior, he would have been truly terrified.

Paradi had overwhelmed the warships. Made every soldier's eyes bulge from their sockets when they witnessed the beast with sharpened ears and glowing emerald eyes howl into skies, the colossal creature of destruction that created tsunamis with every groundbreaking footfall into the sea. The failed experiments of titan science who soared high into the clouds, swinging from hooks lodged into the meat of the colossals neck, leading thousands of others cloaked in black. Their eyes dark, their ink hair whipping in the wind, their bodies birthed, and honed to be a weapon of use.

The Ackermans. The forbidden clan who had been immune to the old kings mind erasure one hundred and four years ago.

It was out of blood-pulsing fear, that the remaining enemy soldiers had surrendered, dropping to their knees onto the shore of Paradi; shaken, filthy, soaked, and covered in sand.

They’d been blinded with pain, some with confusion, some with rage, and some with all three. Brainwashed by their Marleyian neighbors to believe Paradi was an island of devils. Armin may as well had been a demon in the form of a young man. To them, he was a god of destruction. And destroy he did, for it was for the purpose of the mission. No ships would ever bypass their defenses, _nothing_ of the Marley would ever set foot on their cursed land.

He did what he had to do. So did Eren, and the armies who aided them. No survivors. No mercy.  But for one.

“You’re suggesting, Hange,” Chief Zackley cleared his throat, he locked eyes with the Commander of the Survey Corp, “that we’re just to heed the words of a P.O.W _you_ had set free… _without_ informing the Queen, or even discussing the matter with me, or the Garrison, might I add. Do you even realize the _imminent danger_ you have put the walls in? The people? _Do you care?_ Or is this another one of your experiments gone haywire, has your rational thought stopped working since the battle at sea?”

Armin stood to voice an opinion, but Hange held her hand up to him. He looked to his Commander, eyebrows furrowed, her amber eye shone with various possibilities for the end of this meeting.

 _I got this._ She told him wordlessly. He swallowed, then sat back down. Levi, who was seated to her right, folded his arms, leaning further back into his chair, he glared heavily at the man who dare insult his three-eyed Commander, if looks could kill, Zackley would cease breathing.

“Chief, please listen,” She leveled with him, her tone taking the same superiority. “the man we had sent back to the Mainland, was not _our_ prisoner of war.  He was not even a real soldier of the Marley. He was a civilian of the Ghettos who had snuck aboard their ships disguised as a soldier. We held him behind bars, yes, though we showed no mercy to the Eldians that attacked us. We let him live for one sole reason.” Rico Brzenska muttered something accusatory under her breath, Hange ignored her, continuing evenly. “And it was for that _reason_ we entrusted him to become our eyes and ears within the Mainland.”

Zackley stroked his beard, curious. “That reason being?”

“He is the father of a warrior terrorist who sabotaged us four years ago.”

The meeting hall stilled. Every breath in the room hushed, every quill and paper silenced. Rico snapped her head to Hange, her eyes wide in disbelief. Zackley seemed unperturbed, but his eyes gleamed with a sort of daunting interest that reminded Armin so faintly of his very own Commander.

“Which one?”

“Annie Leonhardt, Sir.”

Armin heard whispers erupt behind him, he fought the urge to glance back. To see what face Jean was making, or Floche, a former member of the nearly dead Military Police division. The only individuals within this meeting hall who knew of Annie Leonhardt’s breakthrough from the crystal, were himself, Jean, Floche, Captain Levi, their Commander, and their Queen Historia. So in count, a majority of the Survey Corp.

Chief Zackley, and Commander Brzenska were excluded, solely for the reason that Hange dubbed them to be extremists against the warriors. Even if Chief Zackley was the Queen’s Counsel, he was only appointed because of his past experience in the law as a judge. Armin had only heard rumors of the Chief’s torture methods, his humiliation and exposure of the Military Police had shocked the people.

Though Brzenska only thought logically in a sense, she was also still ruthless. Still recovering from the loss of their beloved Commander Pixis who backed Commander Hange with the strength of the Garrison during the battle against the Marleyian warships. She believed Hange owed her, or rather the Garrison, for such a loss. Rico would have no trouble with executing the female titan, and anyone who dare get in her way to pursue that goal. Armin twiddled his thumbs under the table, watching the Commander of the Garrison menacingly narrow her eyes at Hange.

“You put your trust into the parent of a damned terrorist?” She hissed, “Are you mad?”

 _Yes._ Armin thought.  

“Brzenska.” Zackley coldly addressed her. Rico huffed, but relented. She dropped her snarl to the desk before her, fingers curled tight around the quill she held. Armin knew very well she intended to hear every word his Commander spoke.

Zackley focused on Hange. “Annie Leonhardt, the female titan, she is still under your custody, correct?”

“Yes. Her crystal has been under surveillance since we had apprehended her.”

“There haven’t been any changes in these past four years?”

“There have not, Sir.”

Armin’s nape perspired, his palms were clammy as he folded them in his lap. Something about keeping secrets from his superiors made him uneasy, and Armin was a young man of many secrets. Yet Commander Hange was as taciturn as his Captain. She showed little to no signs of discomfort. Armin greatly admired her ability to put on a poker face when harboring a terrorist of the walls.

Zackley asked again. “Have you managed to chisel through her armor?”

“No, Sir.”

“Hm.”

Brzenska stirred in her seat. “I don’t believe it.” She grumbled, directing her glare to Hange.

“What’s not to believe?” Hange countered. “I am a Commander first, but scientist second, If I _had_ the results I would’ve shared with you all the ground-breaking news.”

“You’re telling us that even after four years of studying innovative technology, the titans, and the world beyond ours, _as well_ as advancing our machinery, you still haven't managed to break through a bloody diamond?”

“It’s crystal.”

“Whatever. I refuse to accept your lies,  and I refuse to accept that a man would go far and wide for a daughter that could, and _should_ be dead _.”_

Armin swallowed, his mind working to find a gateway. Though Hange might have already predicted Brzenska’s suspension, as she beckoned for one of her advisors to come forward. Floche brought to her a thick envelope, he and Armin shared a look as he walked back to his seat.

“We have tried our thunder spears,” Hange opened the envelope, from it she placed on her desk, four grainy black and white photographs. The discovery of photography was founded by Eren four years ago in the ruins of Shigansina, left for him by his late father Grisha Jaeger; but the mechanism behind was researched, then later reinvented by the Commander herself, and tested by several other scientists of the Survey Corp.

The walls very first camera was introduced during the year of 853, but the celebrations were cut short when the Marley warships’ air horns drowned out the music, and the joyous mood. The Marley had come, the Battle at sea had commenced.

“They did, in fact, manage to scrape the crystal, however,” Hange held up one of the photo’s, Armin instantly recognized them. They were three shots of their many attempts to crack Annie’s crystal, and one of Annie while she slept in her crystal, the photos were taken months ago,  “If you notice, the smoke coming from the sides,” Hange pointed to a smoky spot on the photograph, though it was hard to tell really what it was, “while the crystal did take _some_ damage, the thunder spear took more. Yes, it was designed to explode on impact, but, this one, completely disintegrated.”

Zackley nodded to one of assistants to retrieve the photographs. _This was the perfect bait._ Armin thought, Photography despite now being a new discovery for people within the walls, was still not widely popular, He knew his Commander had made up the smoking crystal, and defective thunder spears, he knew because he had been with her when they had used them. The crystal had burst into a rain of sparkling shards from one side, and Annie, unfortunately for her, had lost an arm. The second time round they’d only clipped the other side, but it was enough to puncture through, Annie _had_ been severely injured, for the most part, but she was out, and that was all that mattered than.

“I am currently looking for another solution besides the thunder spears,”Hange added, “If Annie Leonhardt is alive, I don’t want to kill her upon breaking the crystal. It’s a progress, it may be another year or so until the Survey Corp have a breakthrough in this case.”

“Why not use Eren’s titan abilities?” Zackley pondered while he looked over the photo’s.

“We had, Sir, but Eren’s hardening ability is not as strong as Leonhardt’s.”

Brzenska scoffed, again. But said nothing. Commander Hange had made her point.

Zackley was quiet as he investigated each picture. Then he sat back, adjusted his glasses, and exhaled. Armin unnoticeably did the same.

“I do believe you, Hange, I respect you. But, please understand you still must take punishment for releasing a prisoner of war, you must realize that you have committed a grand felony of the walls, endangering it’s citizens regardless of the prisoner’s intentions to help us for the sake of his daughter. We don’t know whether or not he would turn against us, we don’t even know if he had provided us with truthful information.” Zackley turned to The Queen who had sat humble and quiet throughout the entire meeting.

“If the Queen would grant this charge that is, but please do consider the lives of your people, your majesty.”

Queen Historia, who knew very well of Annie Leonhardt’s breach, and of Commander Hange’s plan to swindle Annie’s father into working for the Survey Corp as a Spy, picked up the quill from the ink jar on her desk, “Commander Hange, I side with Zackley, you acted alone on a gamble of a plan, you _have_ put us at risk, despite your claims ” She sighed, though softly. then continued, “I hereby suspend your rank as Commander for sixty days, you will be under house arrest,  and I will halt your investigation of the Marley until further notice of the prisoner’s intel comes forth, and _will be_ directly delivered to me.”

Hange’s face remained passive, as did Captain Levi’s. One would think it was out of professionalism, but Armin knew better. Hange’s assistants did well to act surprised, Jean appeared more angry, or angrier than usual. Commander Brzenska seemed satisfied with the outcome, though she did well to hide it.

“Levi, you will lead the Survey Corp in Hange’s absence. This meeting will be adjourned until I have received, and gone over the last information of the Prisoner, you’re all dismissed.”

* * *

 

“Well, that was a hard shit to swallow.” Levi slumped against the door of Hange’s office. Tired, and weary.  

Hange sat atop her desk, going over the arrest warrant signed by the Queen herself. Hange was proud of her.

“It may have been, but we knew this would happen. Historia was only doing what is right of her position.” Hange sighed, “In any case Chief Zackley and Brzenska aren't so suspicious of me anymore, I could freely continue my research without them hovering over my back.”

Levi perked a brow, “And the letters?”

Hange shrugged, “We discussed this already, Historia will be overlooking them,”

Levi stared at her. Hange exhaled. “yes, along with me.”

“Right. But what of the key points you left out when relaying the information to Zackley?”

It was Hange’s turn to stare. Levi huffed, “The fact that one of _ol’ papa_ Leonhardt’s letters was smeared with blood, for one, and that he had asked for a coup against the Marley, against Eldia _, an entire damned nation,_ for two _.”_

Hange laid the warrant down on her desk, her face went somber. “He said he found our allies, people who stand with Paradi to rebel against the Marley.”

“He claimed he found allies, Hange, you’re smart, please don’t act stupid.”

Hange stood from her desk, turning her back to Levi, she walked over to the windowpane behind her desk, gazing out into a field of dust, and grass. The sun’s rays washed her in yellows, oranges and reds. The wrinkles around her eyes became more prominent.

“Levi,” it was her distressed tone that caught his undivided attention. “we don’t know when we’ll be their next attack.” She swallowed, lifting her hand to remove her glasses, “And we don’t know how much more damage our militaries could take, Armin and Eren are our greatest assets in power- but, even _they_ have a limit on their lives.”

She shook her head,  as she spoke quietly, “What good comes from waiting,” Hange turned to face Levi then, “I can’t wait anymore, Levi, I refuse to, you know I’m an impatient person.”

It was than Levi realized Hange’s true intention. He gawked at her, dark eyes growing furious as the seconds passed by. _This damned woman._

“... You plan on crossing that sea during your suspension, don’t you...” Levi stepped forward, “Going into enemy territory?”

Hange said nothing, because he was right. Levi growled, “Hange, you… _Hange_.” He ripped his eyes from her, instead pacing  back and forth to quell the rage he felt. The same dire emotions that had overcome him when Erwin made his decision to lead his final expedition.

“It’s not revised yet,” She quipped, “I still have the blueprints Mr. Leonhardt had sent me of the Zeppelin, It was good enough for us, we’ve made so much progress over their past year, it’s almost ready and I-”

 _“You’re insane.”_ Levi swung around, glaring her down like he did Erwin, all those years ago. “Who do you think you are, huh? _Erwin_?” Still his previous Commander’s name brought a twinge of pain to his heart. “Stop acting the martyr, and think logically for a minute, you’re a scientist, fucking act like one.”

_“Levi…”_

“The Marley are an entirely advanced nation, with far more allies than we could ever hope to gain on our side.” Levi marched towards her desk, placing both his palms on the hardwood, his eyes were harsh, but for Hange, who knew him for more than ten years, they were pleading. “Listen to me when I tell you this, whatever you have planned, however way you plan on getting to Eldia, whomever you plan on bringing with you to overthrow whatever bullshit system they have as their government, there will be a devastating death-count.” His fingers curled into fists. “And I don’t mean of just _our soldiers.”_

Hange knew what he meant. She would be enacting a world-war, if she attacked first, while the Marley was still in cahoots with the nations that have backed them up against the Mid-East Union, then Paradi will have far more enemies. Stronger, militized enemies. Yes, Hange knew this. And was aware of the many that would die in the thoroughs of war, innocents, soldiers, people.

Their people. But what other choice did they have? _Their people_ were dead anyway, if they simply sat back and did nothing.

“They have the ninth titan shifter.” Hange folded her arms, leaning against the window pane. “You’ve read Leonhardt’s letters, Levi, one of the rich Eldian families over there harbor the last titan shifter in secrecy. Let’s not forget the Marley also have the power of the armored titan, the beast, _and_ that cart titan that had attacked me during our expedition to Shiganshina.”

Levi looked anguished. More so because the woman in front of him was giving him a killer headache.

“Not to mention the disappearance of Ymir, I’m sure following her letter to the Queen, she was eaten by one of their warriors. They have shifters Levi, what happens when they bring those shifters to our island once again?”

Hange approached him, only the desk separated the two authoritative figures. “What happens when they terrorize us with their higher machinery, when they come to our shoreline, bringing weapons and monsters. _What of Armin and Eren?_ What if they get devoured, and Paradi loses it’s trump cards, we lose kids who only fight to protect their only home.”

“Exactly,” Levi hissed. “Their still just _kids_ , Hange. Kids who have fought so many wars of their own. No matter what they look like, what they say, our best soldiers… _my_ best soldiers are still just kids.”

He was hurt. But Hange pressed on, dutifully. “The Survey Corp over the past four years have gained more than five thousand soldiers, since the battle at sea, I had lost five hundred more. I understand Levi, I understand your troubled, your pain. But please, understand my reasoning.”

“I understand you’re a fucking lunatic.”

“We don’t have much of choice, We had already planned to cross the sea anyway-

“Yeah, but that was postponed, because we’re not ready Hange, _we’re not_. And neither are you.”

Hange dropped in her chair, rubbing her temple. “And _when_ will we be ready, Levi?”

He didn't answer. Hange sat back, the chair creaked against her weight. “We must advance before they can, it’s our only choice. And I do have our transport ready, the Zeppelin is stationed in our base outside of Shigansina.” Levi’s face was blank. Hange leaned forward, reaching a hand out to cover his own, that was clenched into a tight fist. “This mission, it won’t be long, we won’t be gone for good, we will come back.”

Levi wasn't moved. “What exactly do you have planned for us?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Our allies, Levi.” She squeezed his hand, “One of them is Eren Jaeger’s elder brother.”

She could feel the breath leave him, as well as hear it. Levi wretched his hand from her, his shock pulled him back. _“No.”_

“He was the reason why Leonhardt had given us the blueprints of the Zeppelin so easily, the true reason why we know so much of the war in the mainland, Leonhardt had only been delivering our letters. But it was Zeke Jaeger who had written them.” Hange opened the last drawer of her desk, from it she took out a small sealed envelope.

“I don’t trust him either, please no know that. But also, take into account what he had written to me in this letter.” She held the envelope out to him, when Levi didn't take it, she pleaded with him .” _Please_ , Levi. Just this once, we must put aside our differences and leave the past behind, I was only waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“Put aside our differences? _He killed Erwin_ , he wiped more than half our battalion four years ago, we were left with nine soldiers, Hange. _Nine._ And you, want to be allies, _with him?_ ” Levi practically growled the last part, his wound of losing many that he cared for had not yet mended. His heart still bled for Erwin. And so did hers.

She looked as guilty as she felt. “Please, I’m begging you now, read this letter, read it, because when I had, I realized that many things were kept from me. Whether or not Eren intended it to be that way.”

“ _What the hell_ does Eren have to do with this!?”

Hange pushed the letter to him once more. Levi eyed it distastefully, before he snatched it from her hand.

“Just so y’know,” He ripped open the envelope with his teeth, crumpling it into a ball then tossing it into trash can, he wished he could do the same for the letter.

“I’m still murdering that bastard, I can care less if he sides with Paradi.”

At this, Hange smiled, but only slightly. “Of course, I won’t rob you of that.”

* * *

 

The afternoon air was crisp, and cool. It was the cusp of winter, the budding start of summer. February was nearly over, and March was coming through.

 _It would be Annie’s birthday soon._ Armin thought as he rode his trustful stallion through Mitras. Atlas trotted carefully through throngs of citizens. Many passerby’s waved at him, or tossed him fruit as he came by. Some… were still wary of him. But, that was to be expected. He was the colossal titan. The same titan that had collapsed their walls, their safe haven.

He wondered if- in his hometown- Bertolt, also felt the same. The power, and inducing fear of others that came with inheriting the colossus. He wondered if Bertolt also harbored guilt from becoming a god of destruction.

Armin his lifted hood over his head, lightly kicking Atlas’s flank to make him gallop faster once they reached a clearing.

 _It would be night soon._ Armin must be awake early for Hange’s and Queen Historia’s meeting that will be held in secret back at Castle Yggdrasil. A meeting he could not afford to miss. Armin swayed left at a corner, and Atlas turned with him.

He’d been making these trips to the underground every off day, ever since Annie had taken an interest in literature. He promised he would teach her more, and he kept to his promise. Annie needed a friend, and a guide. So it deemed plausible that he could be both for her. He had even brought his satchel with him, containing vast amounts of ancient poetry. Today would his second day of teaching Annie about metaphors. She was quite skeptical of him, still, yet she was more fascinated by the stories he would bring, and she always asked questions that Armin was always eager to answer. Her favorite stories were ones of mystery, and murder. The ones he knew she could connect with on an emotional level, the ones of betrayal, she didn't seem to like, but she read them anyway. Annie would have been an amazing disciple, had she not been born on the wrong side.

Armin kept his head low as he left the road of rich, lively mansions, then took a right into a tight cobblestone path lit only by the lanterns that hung outside, leading up to the Wall that shielded Mitras. This road was older than the rest, on each side he saw only shabby inns, flashy bars, and seedy merchants. A street-walker blew him a kiss as he galloped by, Armin swallowed, keeping his eyes ahead.

His eyes, bluer than the ocean, widened as he recognized a tall, broad shouldered figure up ahead. Walking by his lonesome. The hem of his Survey Corp cloak fluttering with every step he took.

Eren looked like a wreck. Armin pulled Atlas’s reigns, stopping just short of the taller man. “Eren!” Armin exclaimed, looking down from his horse. Eren merely peered up at him, the purplish hues under his eyes were darker, his hair was loose from it’s usual tied knot, spilling around his shoulders, and hiding most of his face, he was nearly unrecognizable. Armin felt his chest tighten at the forlorn sight of his friend.

“Eren?” Armin tried again, his tone more gentle. “What’re you doing out here?”

Eren shrugged, “Just thought I’d get some air.”

Even his voice sounded empty.

“You were drinking.” Armin stated, matter-of-factly, but not ill-intended. He loved Eren, Eren was like the brother he’d never had. But Eren was killing himself, mentally. And in turn, physically.

“I was, yeah.” Eren tucked some strands hair behind his ear, getting a better look at Armin, he nodded to the large satchel Atlas carried. “Going somewhere?”

Armin tensed, though forced himself to relax, because this was _Eren._ And Armin was already tired of harboring so many secrets against his friend.

“I was riding to the Underground, to pay Annie a visit.” Armin observed Eren’s reaction.

Which was hardly much of a reaction, he merely scrunched his brows, stared hard at the satchel, almost on the verge of voicing his true feelings. But, he swallowed it down, and shrugged again. “I see, well, I won’t keep you waiting,” Eren began walking again, “Give my regards to Annie!”

Armin bid him farewell, but not two steps did Atlas take, until, Armin huffed, and swung his legs off of the stallion, he hopped to ground, patting Atlas’s muzzle. “Stay, boy, stay.”

Armin strode right up to Eren, he grabbed a hold his friend’s hand, forcing him to turnaround.

“Eren, _Come with me.”_

Eren had this flabbergasted expression, as if Armin told him he could beat Eren in a drinking match. His surprised simmered down when he took in Armin’s words, his green eyes fell to his feet. Armin knowing his friend’s answer, clasped his other hand over Eren’s.

Eren released a breath, though it sounded like pitiful laugh. “She wouldn't want to see me.”

Armin shook his head. “You don’t know that. She didn't want to see me either, but all the intention I had was to be her friend, I made her understand that. You could be too, she only has so much time, Eren.”

Eren opened his mouth, closed it, bit into his bottom lip. Then he exhaled, the stench of alcohol hit Armin square in the face. “I’m not…  the person she remembers me as.”

 _You’re not._ Armin thought. But said, “I wasn't the cowardly, conniving boy she remembered me as either, people change Eren, they grow, for better or for worse.” He tugged Eren, just to get them moving. “Come with me, _please_?”

Eren was out of excuses. “... Okay.”


End file.
